The Fall of the Dark Lord
by Talia of Eragon
Summary: THIS FIC IS FINISHED!! Everyone knows that Harry defeated the Dark Lord when he was a baby. What everyone doesn't know is how he did it. In Harry's seventh year this mystery will finally be brought to light.
1. The Sign of Primus

It was only about a week after they'd worked the Fidelius Charm, and all though James Potter had been confident of the spell's success at first, on this night he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreshadowing doom __

Disclaimer: _all characters belong to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing but a few spells and a certain mythological sign of power._

Authors note: This is my first fanfic. I'm worried that I have people out of character and also that I wind up making it sound too much like anime. Please give me your opinion by reviewing (I'll love you forever, I promise--Talia bats her eyes). Tell me if you think I rated this too hard. I was torn between "R" and "PG13." Also, you'll have to forgive any references to other books/programs/movies/etc…If I see someplace that something will fit in I just can't resist to do it (especially quotes from Dragon Ball Z or any Disney films--I know, I'm pathetic). 10,000 "Who's Line is it Anyway" points to whoever can find them all. I'm aware of one from The Hunchback of Notre Dame in here. Enjoy! Talia. 

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The Fall of the Dark Lord

The Sign of Primus

It was only about a week after they'd worked the Fidelius Charm, and although James Potter had been confident of the spell's success at first, on this night he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreshadowing doom. He was uneasy all night, getting up once every hour to pace the floor of their bedroom and glance nervously out the window.

The many-handed clock on the wall read "Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" in large angled letters. Of course, in muggle terms this would translate to about 2:30 A.M. For the umpteenth time that night he fumbled for his glasses on the night stand and threw off his covers. He padded toward the bedroom door before rethinking his motions and investigating the front yard though the window again.

Lily grumbled as the light from the muggle street lamp outside their house shown for the umpteenth time into her eyes.

"James…" she mumbled into her pillow.

"Hmm?" he answered not taking his eyes from the street.

"What's wrong, you've been waking me up all night. I'm going to put a sleeping charm on you if you don't relax soon."

"Something doesn't feel right…I think something's gone wrong with the Fidelius Charm."

Lily pulled her head out of her pillow, her red hair ruffed and puffy and sat up staring at him. "You know Sirius is our secret-keeper. He'd never tell where we were. He'd rather die first."

"Lily, that's the problem. Sirius isn't our secret-keeper."

"What?" she asked nervously, sweeping her hair out of her eyes.

"Everyone knows Sirius would be the first choice, you know? And Sirius knew too. That's why we decided to change it at the last moment."

"Did you ask Remus?"

"Don't make me laugh, Lily. We're pretty sure that Remus was the one who gave us over to Him."

"What? Why haven't you told me any of this? Why would Remus ever…"

"Lily, you know what Remus is. He obviously let his evil side take over."

"I can't believe that…" she couldn't continue. She covered her eyes and shook her head, "If it isn't Sirius or Remus, then who is it?"

"We asked Peter to do it."

"Wormtail!?! You asked _Wormtail!_" Lily was too shocked to say anything more, but James turned towards her.

"He was as much my friend as Sirius or Remus…no one would ever think that we'd choose him though, not over the other two…but…"

"But what?"

"I'm beginning to think that was a mistake. He was one of my best friends, but he's not as devoted to us as the others. If word got out that he was our secret-keeper, and he confronted Volde—"

"_James!_"

"Sorry. You-Know-Who, he'd break like a twig."

"James—how could you take such a risk!?! You know He's after Harry! How could you do that without even consulting me first!?!" Lily yelled, "If you knew Peter wasn't 100% trustworthy why did you even consider him?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" James shouted back. He looked down holding the bridge of his nose, "I don't know." He stood there in silence for several seconds. Lily made no comment, staring at the rumpled bedcover with her hand over her mouth.

Finally James broke the silence, "I'm going down to the kitchen…do you want anything?"

She shook her head in response. He moved out of the room and made his way downstairs. Lily didn't budge from her spot for several minutes, her hands trembling as she thought of Lord Voldemort: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. They had been on the run from him for months, never staying anywhere for more than two days. They often stayed in the dead center of muggle cities because it was rare for the wizarding type to stray far from other wizards and witches. They had remained in contact with James' best friend, Sirius Black, and also with Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster at Hogwarts. It had been Dumbledore's idea to cast the Fidelius Charm. It was the perfect way to allude the Dark Lord. They would be literally invisible to him, no matter where they were, so long as one person of their choice kept the secret of where they were hiding. Sirius would have been their obvious choice for secret-keeper, but what Lily couldn't understand was why James and Sirius would change to Peter Pettigrew. If they didn't want to use the obvious why wouldn't they have asked Dumbledore to do it? He was the one person in the world whom Voldemort didn't dare meddle with.

Lily looked over at the cradle sitting in the corner of the room by the window. Harry was asleep. She was surprised that their shouting hadn't woken him. She got out of bed and leaned over the side of the cradle to look at her son. He was barely a year old. Why Voldemort wanted him they didn't know. They also didn't know what Voldemort planned to do with him. Lily and James had kept the fact quiet. Everyone around them thought that Voldemort was after them, not their son. The only clue they had about Voldemort's motive was that it had to do with a curious birthmark on Harry's forehead. 

The mark was very light, almost unnoticeable, just shy of three shades darker than the rest of his skin. It was in the shape of a lightening bolt. They figured it would simply go away as he got older; Lily herself had a sort of "smudge" birthmark on her face when she was born. It had disappeared by the time she was five. As she thought about this she traced her finger along the mark. Harry yawned, half-opening one eye, taking hold of Lily's finger before drifting off again. What could this mark possibly mean to Voldemort to cause him to chase them across all of Europe?

Downstairs James sat at their kitchen table with a cup of Mrs. Mulliwully's Multi-Berry Tea. He had taken out a scroll and quill and had begun to write Sirius saying that he wished to rework the Fidelius Charm. He had barely begun the salutation when he heard a knock at their front door. James jumped, knocking his ink well over the tabletop, the black fluid spilled across the table and onto the floor. He ignored it, staring ashen-faced down the hallway. The knock came again. The hair on the back of James' neck stood up. He rose, ready to make a mad dash into the sitting room for his wand which was kept above the fireplace. The knock sounded for a third time, louder than the other two, almost pounding. But then there came a voice.

"James! Lily! It's me! I need to talk to you, it's important," cried a squeaky voice.

Relief flooded over James' mind immediately. He'd know that voice anywhere; it was Peter. But it was also about 3:00AM. Whatever had possessed him to come out at this hour completely escaped James as he walked to the front door, looking through the peephole to confirm that the man outside was indeed Peter Pettigrew.

As James looked out he saw nothing but the night: the first good sign. He pressed as close to the peephole as possible without putting his eyeball against it and peered down at an angle to see a small pair of watery black eyes staring back up at the door. The little man was wringing his hands while the cold wind blew about his quickly thinning hair. James smiled and unlocked the front door. Peter looked worriedly at James as their eyes met. James smirked, leaning against the door frame as he pondered his friend's strange expression.

"Pettigrew, what are you doing here this late at night?"

"You have done very well Wormtail," a third hissing voice said from nowhere. James' face froze and his heart jumped into his throat. "You shall be greatly rewarded for your loyalty."

A shimmering silver cloth fell several feet behind Peter—an invisibility cloak—and a tall hooded figure appeared. James' mouth dropped as he saw the man—his spider-like hands—his bleached skin—his blood red eyes—

"We have some business Potter," his high voice hissed.

Lord Voldemort.

James looked with horrified disbelief at Peter before slamming the door.

"LILY!" he screamed, hastily locking the useless muggle dead bolt.

Lily leapt as she heard James' voice. 

"Take Harry and go! It's Him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—"

A tremor of fear coursed through her. She hastily gathered Harry into her arms and bolted towards the stairs.

James scrambled out of the hallway and into the sitting room, grabbing his wand off of the mantelpiece. He heard the door burst open. A crackle of high-pitched laughter erupted from Voldemort's lips as James' reappeared with wand in hand and nervous sweat dripping from his brow. Voldemort stepped into the house and onto the door, which had been literally thrown from its hinges.

"You're a fool, Potter, if you thought for one second you could keep me from him."

Lily ran out of the stairway, nearly colliding with James. She looked to her left, seeing Voldemort for the first time. She screamed and clutched a crying Harry more firmly against her. Terror shook her and she froze in her spot as she saw Voldemort's eyes light up at the sight of the birthmark on Harry's forehead.

"Yes—yes he is the one."

James turned toward Lily, "What are you waiting for!?! Run! Get him out of here!" He gave his wife a push with one hand toward the back of the house. She scrambled toward the kitchen and turned the corner going out of sight to the next room.

Voldemort laughed, "Not so fast." He pulled his long wand from a pocket of his robe, "No one leaves this house until I say so." He pointed the wand at the floor. "_Inlaqueareus_." A bright violet light shot from the tip of the wand, hitting the floorboards and surging through the walls of the house.

Lily reached the back sliding glass door just as a purple light sped past her encircling the opening. She stopped and pulled on the door. It was cemented shut. 

"No," she whispered, trying the lock on the door and then pulling again. It wouldn't budge, "NO!!" She jerked on it several more times before pounding the glass with her fist, each strike making the light over the glass spark. She sank to her knees and cried along with her son.

A smile slid upon Voldemort's thin lips as he heard Lily's cry when she reached the barricade. He closed his eyes and lowered his face.

"Now there is no way in or out of this house without the command of my wand."

James was breathing heavily, trying desperately to keep his mind from clouding with anger. Voldemort spoke again, addressing Peter who stood outside the front doorway.

"You may go," he hissed, "I wish to conduct this business alone."

Peter fumbled nervously though his robes to retrieve his wand in order to apparate. 

"Traitor!" James shouted though clenched teeth as he saw his late friend hastily trying to retreat. "You sell us to the enemy and then don't even have the decency to watch? If I survive this I'll kill you! And if I don't Sirius will track you down and do it for me!"

Peter having found his wand dropped it at James' words, "J—J—James—" Peter sputtered, "I'm s—sorry."

"SHUT-UP! I don't want to here your voice. Go back and cower in the sewer you crawled out of!"

"He said he would protect me—if I joined him James—you should do the same too—" 

"Leave us Wormtail," Voldemort hissed.

Peter scrambled to retrieve his wand, running down the Potter's driveway, at some point managing to mutter the command to apparate and disappeared in mid-stride.

"Now," Voldemort addressed James, "I see you are very set on refusing my offer about your son." He held his wand in his right hand, touching the point of the wand to his left index finger in an almost playful way. One side of his mouth curled into a smirk. "Are you quite sure? I promise that if you hand the boy over to me he will be taken care of splendidly, in fact I would treat him as my own. Or, if you wish to stay in contact, you and your wife can become my servants. I will put you in the top ranks of my followers, even your mud-blood wife. It truly is an offer you can't refuse, James. Not only will you live past this night, but you will gain power in my world once I have taken control."

James let Voldemort's words slide past him. There was only one thing he wanted: an answer.

"Why do you want my son?"

Voldemort's hairless eyebrows raised, "Do you mean you don't even know?"

James merely glared in response.

"Well, I should have guessed. I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore himself doesn't know. It is a very elusive piece of information." He paused to see if James had anything to say. "It's the mark on the boy's forehead. Do you know what it is? What it means?"

James' confused and angry expression grew with his frustration.

"In every millennia or so, there is a witch or a wizard who is born with exceptional power. They are destined to be great leaders of the wizarding world. They make the most potent changes in magical society. They are destined to become the greatest of us all, and the way they are distinguished from the rest of us is by a distinct birthmark in the shape of a lightning bolt: The Sign of Primus. Allow me to ask you, who is said to be the greatest wizard of all time?"

James remained silent, still utterly confused.

"No answer? Surely you know, you were the head boy of your class, Potter," he paused again. "Merlin. The greatest alchemist and sorcerer of the First Dark Ages. He bore the Sign of Primus. It is a detail few know. It was on the inside of his forearm." For dramatic effect Voldemort pointed to his own arm with his wand, just below the pit of his elbow. "I want your son because he is the next in line for such a great destiny, and if I raise him, then the greatest wizard of the Second Dark Ages will be at my disposal."

"I will never surrender my son to you!" James shouted.

"You don't have a choice."

James' anger breached his control. 

He raised his wand to attack. 

Voldemort swiftly reacted to his motions.

"_Expelliarmus!_" 

"_Repellerous!_"

The two beams shot out of their wands and struck each other, but Voldemort's attack was stronger and shot James' spell back upon him with more force than he'd sent it out with. The light connected with the tip of his wand and instead of throwing it from his hand caused the mahogany wood to crack and explode into thousands of splinters in his hand. James looked horrified at the shreds of wood and the core falling to the floor, the dragon heart string sizzling from the heat of the attack.

He looked up in time to see Voldemort raise his wand again, a hideously wide smile revealing fangs and a forked tongue like an attacking cobra.

"_Abjicereum!_"

A terrible force hit James square in the chest and threw him hard into the wall behind him. His head cracked against a support beam, while the force of his impact nearly put him though the wall. He fell to the ground coughing painfully as plaster fell about him. He tasted blood in his mouth and also felt it seeping across the back of his skull and down the sides of his face as he choked.

Voldemort came forward several steps, "Did you really think you stood a chance against me Potter?" He stood barely one foot in front of James, who glared up at Voldemort's shins, unable to pull himself up to stare him in the crimson eyes. "I really don't want to kill you Potter. It's such a waste," a smile curled on his lips, "Maybe there is still a way for me to convince you to join me…"

"I'll never join you," James wheezed, blood now dripping from his mouth onto the floor.

"We'll see about that, won't we?" He raised his wand above James' head, "_Crucio!_"

Lily heard Voldemort yell the command for the Cruciatus Curse followed by her husband's horrible screaming. She had to find a way to get out. She couldn't let Voldemort take her son. Her wand was above the mantel where James' had been, therefore she couldn't cast a counter spell, she simply had to break the barrier manually, if that was even possible. She looked back to the kitchen and an idea struck her when she saw the kitchen chairs. She rushed towards the kitchen, laying Harry safely away from the door in a corner of the kitchen, covering his face with his blanket to protect him from any flying glass. She took one of the chairs, fiercely dragging it down the hall and with all her strength heaved it against the glass. The glass shattered, and the violet light surrounding the door surged in a bright blast, propelling her backwards all the way into the kitchen. She cracked her head on the base of one of the counters receiving a large gash on her temple. She lay unconscious and Harry shrieked even louder.

Voldemort broke off the Cruciatus Curse hearing the loud bang from the back of the house. He saw Lily hit the floor. James collapsed breathing heavily. Voldemort laughed, "Brave girl. Stupid, but brave." He looked down at James, "I suppose I could say the same about you." James was trying to raise himself up onto his knees, "Look at me when I'm talking to you Potter!" Voldemort kicked James in the jaw. He flew onto his back, but quickly managed to get to his feet not wanting to be cowering before The Dark Lord. James stood defiantly, although shaky and weak, before Voldemort, staring him directly in the eyes.

"Hmm…So we've caught a second wind have we? I'll fix that—_crucio!_" 

The curse hit him again, and James was soon on his hands and knees writhing in agony. "That's right Potter. Bow to me." Voldemort's laughter rose over James' screams. He stopped the curse again, but this time James didn't collapse, he remained on his hands and knees, trying to keep his balance on trembling arms.

"Now," Voldemort hissed, bending down to see James' face, "Pledge your allegiance to me."

"Never!"

"Join me now and the pain will stop, James."

"NO!"

"Swear it! _Imperio!_"

James was swept into a dreamlike state. Nothing surrounded him. His mind was free accept for a small voice in the back of his head:

__

Swear allegiance to Lord Voldemort.

But at the same time a second voice was audible. He recognized it as his own:

__

Remember Harry. Remember Lily. Don't give in. Whatever you do don't let him win.

James answered the first voice:

__

Never.

Swear your allegiance to the Dark Lord.

No.

Swear it.

I will not.

You must!

I WON'T!

James opened his eyes to see Voldemort's face awaiting the forced reply. It took all of his mental reserves to break free from the Imperious Curse, but he took a deep breath and spit in Voldemort's face. Voldemort snarled, striking James against his cheekbone with the back of his hand. Voldemort leapt to his feet 

"Insolent bastard," he hissed, wiping his face. He pointed his wand at James, "_Quassarius!_"

James saw a bright blue light erupt from Voldemort's wand inches in front of his face, and that was the last thing he ever saw. 

The lenses of James' glasses shattered into his eyes. He howled louder than he had when he was afflicted with the Cruciatus curse, his hands shooting up to his eyes. He threw the empty frames to the side, cupping his palms over the ruined sockets. He cursed more than he ever had in his entire life as he writhed on the floor.

"You are hopeless, Potter. I really thought you were smarter than that. You're a classic Gryffindor. Too stupid to see the futility of heroics." He smiled at James' suffering. "Now, you stand on the brink of the abyss. Join me now or die."

James got to his feet, facing the direction Voldemort's voice had come from. He pulled his hands away, staring with bloody sockets at the Dark Lord. He snarled clenching his teeth, "Go to Hell, Voldemort."

Voldemort's face contorted in fury. He raised his wand, holding it strait out between James' ruined eyes.

"_Avada Kedavra._"

Footsteps.

Lily opened her eyes again. 

She saw Lord Voldemort coming through the door of the kitchen. Terror gripped her again, and then her eyes were drawn to the floor behind him. James lay prostrate on the floor, unmoving and bloody. "No… Oh God no…" She looked at Voldemort again. He did not even notice her. His eyes were locked on her wailing son. 

"No!" she screamed running in front of Voldemort, "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" she pleaded, trying to block his way with her outstretched arms.

"Stand aside, you silly girl…stand aside, now…"

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

"Get out of my way mud-blood!"

"Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…"

"MOVE!"

Lily gave up begging. She turned on her heel and scrambled to pick up Harry. She held him securely against her and sprinted toward the broken glass door.

"STOP!" Voldemort bellowed, raising his wand. "_Crucio!_"

Lily's back arched as she let out a blood-curdling scream and fell to her knees. Even in the agony of the Cruciatus Curse she neither dropped nor crushed Harry. Her grip remained firm, but not choking. As the pain rushed through her body Harry screamed even louder as if he could feel it as well. 

"Give me the boy!" Voldemort hissed.

Lily backed to the wall, shielding Harry from Voldemort's reach. She held Harry's face securely in the nape of her neck.

Voldemort's spidery fingers painfully griped her upper arm and shook her, "GIVE ME THE BOY!"

Lily sobbed and screamed back, "NOT MY BABY! I'LL NEVER GIVE YOU MY BABY!"

Voldemort had had enough. He raised his wand one last time, pointing it at the base of her skull. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Jade Green light erupted from the wand and was absorbed into Lily's body. She fell motionless onto her back, her face frozen with her eyes wide and her mouth half opened. Even in death she still firmly clasped Harry against her. Harry's voice grew louder with every preceding second. 

Voldemort bent down and pried the dead woman's arms away from the boy and lifted the heap of blankets into his own arms. He stepped over the corpse and laid the boy on the kitchen table. Voldemort's attention was suddenly diverted to the windows of the house. They seemed to be rattling. He ignored it. 

Voldemort unwrapped Harry from the blankets he was bound in revealing a healthy squirming baby clad in a little green sleeper. Voldemort noticed that the Sign of Primus on Harry's forehead seemed to be significantly darker than it had been the first time he saw it. Before it was barely noticeable, but now it was plain as day. He reached out one long finger and traced the mark, then cupped his hand around Harry's small tender head. Only several seconds passed before Voldemort felt a strange tingling feeling where he touched the boy's skin, then suddenly the sensation turned into searing pain. He screamed, jerking his hand away. He clutched his wrist and looked at the palm of his hand. It had been burned red, and wisps of steam rose as the flesh cooled. 

Suddenly Voldemort was aware of what was going on around him. The entire house seemed to be vibrating. The kitchen window cracked, then the electric light overhead exploded in a shower of sparks.

"What in the hell is going on here!?!" Voldemort shouted, turning to see the window crack in several more places and then shatter. He heard the sounds of breaking glass all over the house. Then the entire building seemed to lurch and a great crack appeared up the kitchen wall and across the ceiling. He looked at Harry and gasped. The Sign of Primus had darkened so much that it appeared the color of blood!

"You! You're doing this!" Voldemort exclaimed realizing the power that he had planned on harnessing. Just then the shards of glass that had fallen from the window flew towards him. He barely had enough time to react, "_Protegero!_"

A dim cloudy shield formed in front of Voldemort. The glass impacted it and then fell to the floor. The building lurched again, the cracks in the walls and ceiling multiplying and widening.

"Stop you little fool, or you'll bring the roof down on us!"

Harry wailed even louder as the walls themselves began to shake and bits of plaster began to fall from everywhere.

Realization hit Voldemort hard. He would never be able to control this power. It would be better to destroy a potential ally than to gain a powerful enemy. The house shook as if it was in an earthquake. He looked at his victim again, raising his wand.

"Here marks the end of the Potter line," Voldemort whispered. "_Avada Kedavra_."

The jade light shot toward the helpless child, but then something happened that Voldemort had never experienced. The beam hit its mark directly on target, but the boy didn't die, nor did his body absorb the curse. The light hit the very sign that Voldemort had been chasing after for months, and instead of entering into the boy's young body it bounced off of him, leaving nothing but a cut. Before Voldemort could react his curse had rebounded and struck him in the chest. 

But he didn't die either.

The curse had lost some of its power to the boy. Voldemort fell backwards in convulsions, struggling to gain his breath as his heart flopped about irregularly in his chest trying to overcome the Killing Curse. 

Before Voldemort could recover the supports of the house finally gave in and came crashing down.

Even though he was buried under tons of debris Voldemort somehow found the strength to lift his wand and point it at himself. He whispered the incantation to apparate, spitting up black blood in the process. He hadn't the strength to direct himself to a specific destination, but he had to escape before the Ministry of Magic could investigate the attack. 

He found himself in a swamp somewhere. He struggled to get up, collapsing onto his stomach. He looked at his hand, which still held his defeated wand. As he watched his hand he gasped in horror as his skin literally began to melt off of his bones. He tried to scream, but his voice was silenced. His head fell to the ground, now nothing but a skull, and within minutes his bones had crumbled to dust.

And yet, even though his body had been destroyed, his mind, or perhaps his soul if he still possessed one, was still animate.

Lord Voldemort had fallen from power.

But he had not died.

************************

The next day the Ministry of Magic had sent dozens of members out to try to cover up Voldemort's latest horror show. The loss of the Potters was taken very hard. It was the end of a very long line of powerful and well-liked wizards and witches. James was the last of his siblings, and his parents had died many years ago. This was one of the worst tragedies to come about in years. Lily and James had been head boy and girl in their class at Hogwarts, and two of the most powerful magicians to come of their generation.

The faces were very solemn as the workers uncovered the ruble of the Potter house in search for the bodies. They found James first. Although most everyone on the scene knew the Potters, Rubeus Hagrid was called there to identify the bodies. The man howled like a beast the entire time, especially when he saw James pulled from the debris and placed onto a floating stretcher. They covered him with a white sheet as they moved him to the side of the house. Hagrid was lead to the stretcher to identify James. He threw his head back, tearing at his wild hair and wiping his eyes with his over-sized handkerchief. The poor giant wailed like a dying animal when he saw James' beaten face and fell to his knees with enough force to crack the hard ground. He cursed Voldemort, of course not actually uttering his name, and swore and yelled until a kindly witch was able to calm him. Of course, as soon as he had gotten himself under control they retrieved Lily from the ruble and Hagrid's mourning rose up again. 

He sat on a bench next to the consoling witch who had calmed him down the first time. The bench was creaking and warping under the man's huge form as he blubbered his sadness.

"Oh! Whydit have to be the Potters? Why oh why? Poor James! That coward tortured him first—Oh his eyes! What happened?" He sobbed into his hanky, "An lil' Lily! OHHHHH!" The witch beside him was having little luck in calming him down again. "Oh, and lil' Harry—You haven't found 'im yet! Oh, I won't be able to look at the poor boy—OHHHHH! He was barely even a year old!" He sobbed more.

And then a peculiar thing happened.

Hagrid stopped making all sound.

He went from fortissimo to dead silence.

"Do you hear that?" he asked the witch.

"What?"

"That! That right there!"

"I don't hear anything, Mr. Hagrid."

"I do! It's a baby crying!" His eyes lit up below his shaggy eyebrows. He looked toward the ruins of the house. "And it's coming from over there!" Hagrid pointed to the remains of the house.

Hagrid leapt up from the bench, which happily bent back to its correct form. Hagrid started moving swiftly to where he heard the cries.

The councilor yelled after him, "Mr. Hagrid! I can't let you go in there!"

But it was too late. Hagrid had leapt the remainder of the outside wall and was making his way to what used to be the kitchen. The sound grew louder the closer he got, and soon he was down on all fours pulling and pitching debris and rubble right and left. The other workers had tried to stop him, but it was useless. Yet, the deeper Hagrid dug, the more they also heard a faint crying noise. Soon they all were digging, or rather floating pieces of house away with their wands.

Soon they all saw a sight that would haunt them forever. Somehow when Voldemort destroyed the house everything had fallen around Harry in an almost perfect dome. They couldn't understand it. Hagrid reached into the small cave and drew the squirming boy out. 

It was a miracle. Harry was untouched, save for a horrible cut on his brow in the shape of a lightening bolt. Harry showed absolutely no signs of having a two-story house cave in on him. But what truly put the miracle in the event was what the medics found as they examined him. Harry showed signs of being hit with the _Avada Kedavra_ Curse: a curse with no block and no known counter. No one had ever survived it, and yet this boy had! What made the occasion more joyous was that Voldemort seemed to have disappeared. All signs showed that he was gone—completely gone. Therefore, by the next day the defeat of the Dark Lord by "The Boy Who Lived" had been spread across the globe.

It was over. The Second Dark Ages had finally come to an end.

__

More Author's notes: because of what happened to Cassandra Claire I've decided to name the quotes and dead obvious situational references for each chapter. I have some references that aren't obvious enough to have a disclaimer (like references that come from (or could come from) about 10 different places or more), or that are so minor (like Voldie having black blood) that having a disclaimer seems silly. If you feel the need to see the whole list, it is under Lists as "The Fall of the Dark Lord"

1) "We'll see about that, won't we?" line from an episode of Dragon Ball Z, said by Lord Frieza, © Akira Toriama.

2) "Bow to me," line from Disney's Mulan, said by the Hun leader © Disney Animation.

3) "The lenses of James' glasses shattered into his eyes." This specific use of the shattering charm came from the movie Carrie2: The Rage_ when the telekinetic girl shattered that one prep's glasses when she had a harpoon gun aimed at her. I think Carrie and Carrie2 are owned by Steven King, but I'm not totally sure, I don't know who to put for ownership of the movie._

4) "Now you stand on the brink of the abyss," line from Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, said by Judge Claude Frollo © Disney Animation.

5) "He clutched his wrist as he looked at the palm of his hand. It had been burned red, and wisps of steam were smoking as the flesh cooled." The burned hand and the wisps of steam come out of the animated version of Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn when the magician, Shmendrick tries to free the unicorn © Peter S. Beagle.

I do not own Dragon Ball Z, Mulan, Carrie 2: The Rage, The Huchback of Notre Dame, or The Last Unicorn.

There 8 other minor references in my list, however the use of the word "smirk" obviously doesn't need a disclaimer, a person being thrown into a wall, although I personally picture it in the same way as it appeared in a movie I saw, doesn't mean the creator of 3x3 Eyes can claim it since similar scenes take place in countless other series and movies. Likewise, references to glass shattering due to a person's power can't be claimed since this happens in probably about 1,000 different places due to telekinesis, or whatever it might be. Hopefully this proves enough of a point that it will be safe for me to only mention my obvious references. If anyone thinks otherwise, please tell ME before you complain to a higher power and I will do my best to remedy the problem. Thank you, and sorry if I sound bitchy, but this whole thing with Cassandra Claire has me upset and scared out of my wits. I was never able to read any of her stuff, and I'm horrifically afraid that the same thing will happen to me now.


	2. The Dreams

The Fall of the Dark Lord __

Disclaimer: I own no body in this story, J. K. Rowling does. I only lay claims to a few spells (that I don't think are even in this chapter) "The Sign of Primus," and the actual story line.

Author's notes: Well, here we go. This is chapter two of my first fanfic ever. We jump from 14/15 years ago to 2/3 years into the future--Harry and co.'s seventh year. This idea has been plaguing me for a few months now so, here it is. You'll have to forgive me for making any noticeable references to other books/movies/etc. If I see a set up I can't help but stick it in. 10,000 "Who's Line is it Anyway" points to anyone who can find them all. I'd really like to know what you think so please R/R. Tell me if people are in or out of character…I have a tendency to get everyone too serious. Loads of thanks! Talia.

****

The Fall of the Dark Lord

Chapter 2: The Dreams

Harry sat up in bed stifling a great cry. It was the same dream again and again. Every night the same thing: the night his parents died. It always ended the same way: with the bright flash of the _Avada Kedavra _curse. He never saw passed it…never saw what happened afterwards or how he'd survived.

The dreams were getting worse every night. When he'd first come to Hogwarts they were only occasional, and they had only consisted of sounds and light, like what he experienced in the presence of the Dementors in his third year. But now he could see the entire night…everything that had happened. The first time he'd seen the whole thing he'd been traumatized. He couldn't even find the strength to pull himself from his bed. He could only stare at the drapery and recall his father fighting Voldemort, and his mother begging for his life. It had taken a week to pull him out of that state. Ron and Hermione couldn't understand what he was going through, and he refused to tell anyone about what he saw.

This dream had been the worst of all—the realest. He'd actually felt his parents' pain—had been only inches from his father during the battle. He was dangerously close to falling back into the pit he had been in not more than a month ago. He fumbled for his glasses, putting them on with trembling hands. He struggled with his robes and went down to breakfast.

The hall was deafeningly silent. It had been that way all year long. The tragedies that had occurred since 1994 had left no one unaffected. Even the Weasley twins, when Harry had the chance to speak to them, weren't the same. They were serious, not their old happy selves. The deaths of their father and Percy hit them hard. Ron had taken it well; his personality had remained intact for the most part. It happened two years earlier, when some of Voldemort's followers attacked the members of the Ministry of Magic. Many had died, including the attackers. When they had no escape from the Ministry they simply went kamikaze, venerating the Dark Lord to the end.

It was 1997 now; Harry's seventh year. The graduation banquet was set up for the next evening, and commencement was in three days. It would have been exciting, accept that the fear of Voldemort was so great that any happy moments were sucked away, leaving everyone gray-faced and withdrawn. 

Harry sat down next to Ron and Hermione. Hermione was wearing her silver Prefect badge. She was head girl—_naturally_. Even in these dark times she was still the brainiest person in the whole school. What he couldn't figure out was how he became head boy. But he was, plain and simple. He was second in the class only to Hermione.

He stared blankly at his plate.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, "Harry!" She snapped her fingers in front of his face to break the trance. 

"Wha—what?" Harry mumbled, glancing at her and Ron who looked at him with worry.

"Are you okay? You're not going to conk out on us again are you?"

"No…no I won't let myself do that again."

"What's wrong then?" Ron asked, "We didn't ask before, because we figured you'd tell us eventually, but what happened? Why did you—leave?" Ron could think of no better way to describe Harry's severe bout of depression those few weeks ago.

He decided to tell them. It wouldn't make the torture of reliving the dreams any worse than it already was. "It's the dreams…They're getting worse. At first I just heard them, and saw the light but…last month—I _saw_ them die. I watched them die. Every night I watch them die over and over again and I can do absolutely nothing to stop it from happening!" Harry hadn't looked up from his plate. "Last month I _saw_ everything…what He did to my father—I couldn't take it. I saw it happen over and over again, even when I was awake. I see it now!"

"Harry," Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder as Harry put his hand to his eyes.

"What's wrong Potter? Having bad dreams?" a cooing voice said.

"Go suck a toad Malfoy!" Ron growled.

Malfoy and his flunkies Crabbe and Goyle laughed, "Is the ickle baby having nightmares?"

"Get away from me Malfoy," Harry whispered, putting his hand down on his wand, "Now."

"Oh, the poor baby wants me to leave him alone."

"I'm warning you…"

"What are you going to do, Potter? Kill me?"

Harry leapt from his chair, whirling around with wand in hand, stopping the point between Malfoy's eyes. He squeaked in utter surprise, staring down the length of the wand. Any noise that had been in the room abruptly stopped as all attention was directed to Harry and Malfoy. 

Crabbe and Goyle backed away. Malfoy looked at Harry with worry, his fear growing even more when he saw Harry's face. None of them had ever seen such a look on Harry before. Never, not in any of their confrontations. Never a look of such hatred and malice. His brows were forked together, his eyes piercing from beneath them, and his clenched teeth were bared in rage.

"Now, Potter—_I mean Harry_—Don't do anything foolish!" Malfoy stammered.

"Harry," Hermione said, "Put the wand down." She tried to push his arm down to his side, but it wouldn't budge. It was locked in that position, his fists clenched and white-knuckled.

"Leave," he growled.

Malfoy fell backward onto his rear and then scrambled to his feet and away to the Slytherin table. Harry remained frozen in the same position, arm and wand outstretched, eyes fixed on an enemy that was no longer there.

"Harry! HARRY!" Ron and Hermione yelled in unison.

It was like he snapped back from some other world. His face returned to normal, his muscles relaxed and his wand clattered to the ground. He fell back on his chair. The whole room was watching him.

"What did you think you were doing!?!" Hermione shouted, "Are you trying to get yourself expelled? For God's sake, we only have three more days!"

"Why did you do that, Harry? Everyone's gonna think you've gone bad, just like You-Know—"

"Don't even say it Ron. Don't even suggest it. I don't know what I was thinking," Harry answered.

************************

The day went well after that, mainly because Malfoy was too afraid to torment him. Finals went well too. For once in his life Harry knew the material. He crashed into bed praying for one good night's sleep out of his last year at Hogwarts. But in any case, if he was forced to see that night again, he was determined to see what happened after Voldemort cursed him. He would not let himself wake up until the very end.

It was inevitable. He hadn't escaped from the dreams any other time that year, or any of the years since Voldemort's return. The dream came, as it always did. It started the same way it always did, with his father being unable to sleep, and then the argument between his parents, and then the arrival of Voldemort.

It was the same every night. He came walking into the house over the broken door, his bleached face distorted into an evil smile, and he spoke. The voice haunted Harry; all the voices in the dream haunted him. He could always remember the voices when he woke up, but never what they had said.

Voldemort always spoke to his father before the fight, but Harry could never remember what about. He thought it had something to do with _him_, but he could never remember, and then his father would attack, but Voldemort not only blocked the spell, but rebounded it, shattering his father's wand in the process. He was left defenseless. Voldemort then proceeded to torture him, each time asking for something his father refused to give—his loyalty?—but in each case his father refused—and then…

Voldemort went on to his mother, who was trapped inside their house. She begged for Harry's life, Voldemort growing angry—at first he displayed no interest in her—only in Harry. Remembering this when he woke each time tormented him—she died because of him. Voldemort may have let her live otherwise. Finally he killed her, casting the _Avada Kedavra_ to her back—_to her back!_ And afterwards he would pry Harry out of her arms and carry him to their kitchen table.

There he would lay his spidery hand on Harry's infant head—perhaps inspecting the prey before he destroyed it—Harry didn't know. Something more curious to Harry was that he'd already had his scar. It was there! Before Voldemort tried to kill him. It was much more faint than it was now, but the shape, the lightening shape was there. 

By then the protection spell his mother had endowed him with took effect, and Voldemort roared in pain as his hand was burnt where he had touched Harry's bare skin. 

Then something strange began to happen. The house seemed to be shaking uncontrollably. The windows of the house broke, and the shards flew about. Voldemort couldn't control what was happening—had one of his spells gone wrong?—Harry didn't understand.

Finally Voldemort turned on the infant Harry, screaming at him as if the strange happenings were his fault, and then he raised his wand. "_Avada Kedavra!_" Harry heard Voldemort yell. It was the one phrase that, unlike all the other dialogue in the dream, he wanted to forget and couldn't.

This was it—Harry would wake up, just as he always did—No! He wouldn't let himself! He had to know! He wouldn't wake up at the sight of the green light.

The light shot from Voldemort's wand straight at the—_defenseless?—_Harry. 

He didn't wake up. For the first time he saw what happened. His scar—no, it wasn't a scar—it was a _birthmark_—had grown to a deep shade of red—like blood. The light hit it directly, but the light didn't enter his body like it had when Cedric Diggory was killed his forth year! No! It was reflected—it had split the birthmark open, leaving the deep cut that would become his scar—the light flew back at an unsuspecting and utterly terrified Voldemort. It hit him in the chest and was absorbed. He fell backward in convulsions—the curse wasn't powerful enough to kill him—it had lost some of its edge to Harry.

And then the house gave another great jerk and the walls and ceiling came crashing down around them, but Harry wasn't crushed—a bright white shield of light formed around him as the debris fell, and kept him safe in a protective shell.

The dream darkened, but it wasn't over yet.

As soon as the first sequence of the dream had ended, Harry found himself standing in the dream at his current age. The scene of his house in ruins had faded to complete black. He was confused. He'd seen Voldemort's end—or was it _his_ beginning?—and yet nothing seemed any clearer to him, other than the fact that he did seem to have defeated Voldemort—somehow—on his own. He walked forward, his footfalls echoing through the darkness. He hugged the backs of his arms. A chill in the air had pricked up his spine. For a dream he felt oddly—conscious. Each time his foot hit the ground he noticed that circles of light extended from his feet, like ripples in water, accept that there was no water, only darkness.

"Harry Potter," a voice said from behind him. 

Harry whirled around to meet—_himself?_ Harry couldn't believe it. The boy looked like him, but at the same time didn't look like him. Harry stood, back bent, arms crossed, shivering; the obvious signs of his lack of self-confidence showing through, but this other Harry—this apparition—stood tall and straight-shouldered with his arms at his sides, fists loosely closed. He stood with confidence. Even his countenance seemed—un-Harry-like. And the scar! It wasn't like his—it was dark—red—like it had been at the end of the dream!

"Who are you?" Harry asked the apparition.

"I am you," it answered plainly.

"You can't be me. You don't act like me…don't stand like me."

"But I am you. I am the part of you that you have forgotten."

Harry shook his head, "I don't understand."

The apparition shook its head as well and looked at Harry with cold piercing eyes, "You've always tried to suppress me. You want to forget me—to rid yourself of me. But you forget how you need me. I am one of the deepest and most vital parts of you."

Harry was getting frustrated with the apparition. It wasn't making itself clear and refused to directly tell Harry what it was trying to say. "You don't make any sense! _Who are you!?!_"

The apparition closed its cold eyes and lowered its head. When they snapped open again it moved one foot forward extending its arm and placing two fingers upon Harry's scar. Harry gasped as a strange tingling sensation spread from his scar though his brain and down his back. "Remember me. Set me free. If you want to save any of them set me free. Otherwise you will lose them all." 

The apparition broke the contact and backed away. It paused for a second and then turned to disappear into the darkness.

"WAIT!" Harry shouted. "I don't understand! What part of me are you? How do I set you free? Who will I lose!?!" Harry ran after the apparition as it quickly began to disappear. "WAIT!" Harry caught the apparition by the arm. 

It turned quickly, freeing itself from Harry's grasp. It's scar had grown darker and was it—_beating!?!_ Its cold eyes glared before it reached for the silver clasps of its robes. The material fell to the ground. The apparition stood clad completely in black clothes. Harry started to speak but the apparition glared and screamed, "REMEMBER!"

With that the apparition leapt into the air, and as it did so it transfigured into something huge—something winged—but it was too dark for Harry to see what. The creature rose into the darkness before swooping down over Harry's head, letting out an ear shattering screech, and then it flew away into the darkness.

Harry opened his eyes. 

It was still dark. He sat up in bed confused as ever. He shook his head. "Remember what?" He whispered, running his hand though his hair. Then he brought his hand back to his scar, running one finger over it. "Primus…"

Harry walked down to the dark common room and sat on the couch next to the fire. That word, "Primus" kept running through his head. It sounded so familiar, like a word he'd always known and had forgotten the meaning of. Where had he heard it before, and why did his scar tingle every time he thought of it?

As he sat pondering he heard the door to the girls' dorm room open, and out came Hermione, hair combed and clipped back in a barrette, which had been her new style. She was completely dressed and ready for her classes, and it was only 5:00AM. She came down the stairs and stared blankly at Harry.

"Were you too excited to sleep too?" she asked, sitting down across form him.

Harry quirked an eyebrow; she was already dressed! Right down to her Prefect badge. How could she get ready that early in the morning? Harry had just thrown on a black turtleneck and jeans so that he wasn't sitting in the common room in his boxers.

Hermione sat down next to him. "Did you have the dream again?"

"Yes…and no…it was different. I saw to the end—I saw how I survived…"

"You did!" Hermione gasped excitedly, "How did you do it?"

"I don't know—I still don't understand how I did, or even what I did…" He paused and looked at her, "Does the word 'Primus' mean anything to you?"

"Primus…" she repeated, scratching her head, "I think it's Latin for 'leading,' or 'leader'…maybe 'first'…Why do you ask?"

"I'm not sure. I think Volde—" he stopped himself as he saw Hermione stiffen, "I mean You-Know-Who, said it in my dream. I can always remember what _happened_, but never what anyone said. And I _know_ it's important." He sat forward putting his elbows on his knees. He took off his glasses and covered his eyes with one hand, "For the first time I saw passed when He tried to kill me. The _Avada Kedavra_ hit me, but then it bounced back towards him—and the house—it caved in, but _He_ didn't cause it—I think I did."

"What do you mean, 'you did?' How could you?" Hermione asked moving closer.

"I don't know. If I knew I would tell you! But I don't understand it myself." 

"Have you gone to Dumbledore? I'm sure he could help you—Or maybe Professor Trelawn—never mind bad idea."

"No, I haven't gone to Dumbledore. I don't like talking about this—but—I just feel like something bad is going to happen."

"Harry…"Hermione started to speak, her voice was emotional, and then stopped lost for words.

He put his glasses back on and covered his mouth with his hand. "After the house caved in," he spoke though his fingers, "the whole scene faded into darkness, and then _I_ was there, as I am now; 17. It was completely empty, and then—then I confronted another person. He looked exactly like me, but it wasn't me—it couldn't be me—he acted—_cold_." He looked at Hermione with confusion sitting on his face.

"Who was it then?" she asked, that strange note still in her voice.

"I asked him, and he simply said, 'I am you.' I don't believe it though. I don't want to, he was just too—empty."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He kept saying that I had to remember, and that I had to set him free…I had to set him free if I was going to save any of them."

"Save who?"

"He wouldn't say. I tried to find out, but when I stopped him from leaving he turned into—something—and flew away. Oh God, I'm so confused…" He lowered his head, digging his fingers into his messy hair. "And his scar—it was different from mine—it was blood red—it was horrible…"

"It'll be okay, Harry," Hermione whispered. He felt her arms around him, her head against his shoulder—was she crying? "It'll be okay. I'll do everything I can to help you find your answers, just please, go to Dumbledore. I think he needs to know about—about whatever's happening to you. It might be You-Know-Who's doing…"

Harry looked at her. She was crying. She was crying for him. As far as he knew no one had ever cried for him. "Hermione?" She looked up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He could hardly keep from laughing. He smiled and wiped away one of her tears. The entire idea of someone crying for _him_ seemed so ridiculous. He shook his head and put his own arm around her, "Hermione, why are you crying?"

She hit him in the chest—not hard, "I'm worried about you, you ninny! So is Ron! You've been a zombie for weeks. I've been half afraid that you'd kill yourself."

"I'd never do that."

"How were we to know that? You haven't been yourself."

"I'm sorry."

"Just promise me that you're not going to change again. Promise me that you'll be our old Harry—My old Harry."

__

My?

Harry looked at her again, "Hermione?"

She looked up again, her thin brows forked with worry. He wiped another tear away, but didn't bring his hand down, leaving his fingertips gently touching her jaw. He leaned forward and lightly kissed her, not knowing whether it was a good idea or a bad idea. She inhaled with surprise, but didn't pull away. He broke it off after only a few seconds. She didn't yell at him, which he'd been expecting, in fact she was blushing slightly.

"I promise," he said, "that I will not change. I'm back, and I'm not going away again."

They sat their until the rest of the Gryffindors started to come down, Harry comforting Hermione—which was rather backwards since _she_ had been the one trying to comfort _him_. He knew things between them had changed, and he was suddenly worried about what Ron would think. He'd always thought Hermione and Ron would wind up together, but now it seemed things were turning the other direction.

__

More author's notes: Disclaimer time!

  1. "I saw it happen over and over again, even when I was awake." A lot of the quote references I have are like this, they are adaptations of other quotes. The origanal quote, "Am I dreaming?…But I'm always dreaming. Even when I'm awake, it's never over," comes from Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn.
  2. The dream sequences are inspired by two different places, the dream sequences in the original Technoman series © Saban Entertainment, and the dream sequences in the movie X © (I think) Manga Corps, or Manga something. This was a borderline reference that I don't think I needed to mention, but better safe than sorry.
  3. "Set me free," from the animated version of Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn, said by the harpy, Celano (or something close to that). Another borderline. The line was in Independence Day too…or no wait, that was "Release me…" but in any case, this reference probably isn't necessary either.

There are 2 or 3 other references in my list.


	3. The Battle of the Classes

Everyone went down to breakfast around seven __

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters accept for Professor Poncilian (Thanks go out to Eternal Rose for the name), I do lay claims to the various games in this, the majority of spells/potions, and the actual story-line.

Author's notes: Hey, for anyone who's upset about the Harry/Hermione thing, truth be told, I think she's going to wind up with Ron and Harry is going to be an eternal bachelor (no girl in her right mind is going to get involved with a guy who nearly gets himself killed ten times a year). I did the H/Hr thing after a request by my friend Ralph. Blame him. Just so you have fair warning, this is a BS chapter, which means it is more or less pointless and also longer than the important chapters (why that happens I will never know). In any case, this is my attempt at comedy. I am prepared for rotten fruit to be hurled at me. Hopefully everyone hasn't gone through a 180 degree personality change from chapter 2. Don't forget to review! (Talia bats her eyelashes)

Talia (05/15/01)

****

The Fall of the Dark Lord

Chapter 3: The Battle of the Classes

Everyone went down to breakfast around seven. Things were actually rather lively. Much better than they had been for the past two years—almost the way they were Harry's first year. It was because Dumbledore had invited the entire school to the graduation banquet that night. It was the first time in twenty years that students other than Seventh Years were invited. It was his good-natured way of trying to cheer everyone up. The idea seemed to be working.

Lessons had been canceled for that day, and instead they were going to hold a competition, the "Battle of the Classes." The professors had devised a series of games and activities for the seven levels of students to compete against each other, each class making up a team. Sign up scrolls were posted on all the walls in the great hall during breakfast. Games such as "Wizard Tug-of-War," in which the two teams not only competed against each other but also a live rope, were planned for the afternoon. That was a popular one and filled up quickly. Ron dragged Harry over and made him sign up for the Seventh Year team along with him. Another popular one was "Toss the Gnome," and also "Dunk the Monk." How anyone was going to win that one was a mystery, since the monk happened to be Nearly Headless Nick. There was one game everyone was afraid to sign up for—something called the "Ameba Race." They were convinced that they would be turned into amebas and have to race across the lens of a microscope, so it filled up the slowest. 

Hermione also got the better of Harry and signed him up with her under a Muggle Studies Quiz match, which was a take off of an American muggle game show called "Jeopardy."

"It'll be fun," she said, dragging him along by his arm, "Besides, we were both raised by muggles, we should do great!"

"But…" was all Harry got out before his name had been written down right under hers. 

Harry had been unwittingly entered into two competitions without any real consent, but he did manage to get into one game he actually _wanted_ to be in: the broomstick relay. It of course excluded First Years, but they were compensated for the exclusion in another game. The members of the Quidditch teams were automatically put on the teams, and any other students were allowed to fill in the extra spaces for their classes.

It was going to be an exciting day. For the first time all year, the fear of the Dark Lord had been removed from everyone's mind.

Breakfast lasted for an extra hour that day so that everyone could sign up for the different activities. At nine o'clock everyone was released to the Quidditch field where the competition would take place, for once separating into their separate classes instead of their separate houses on their way. The stands had been sectioned off for the seven groups, and each class took their seats excited about what was about to happen. Ron, Harry and Hermione sat directly in front, with Neville Longbottom right behind them.

The stands were truly alive, even more so than they had been for the Quidditch games, most likely because everyone could participate. Soon Professor Dumbledore was seen walking onto the field floating a rather large case along with him. It was bouncing about in the air as if it had twenty loose Bludgers in it. Dumbledore stopped at the middle of the field so that everyone could see him. He waved and smiled then pointed his wand at his throat.

"Good morning everyone!" his voice boomed across the stands, "I trust you are all excited about our little field day?"

He was answered by a huge roar from all the classes. 

"I thought so! As you saw at breakfast we have a series of games that will span from now until four o'clock. Each class will have their class mates on a team, and the winners of each activity will win their class seven points, second place will be six points, then five and so on. At the end of the day we will announce the winner of 'The Battle of the Classes' to see who comes out on top! The winners will all receive coupons for a free butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade."

Again he was answered with cheers.

"Well, then, shall we get on with the competition?" Dumbledore commanded the floating crate to sit. "Our first competition will be the Wizard Tug-Of-War." 

Ron jumped to his feet, "Harry that's us!"

Harry groaned.

"Come on!" 

They made their way down to the field along with almost two dozen other Seventh Years. 

The teams met in a circle around Dumbledore. The case, although on the ground now, was still jumping about wildly. Dumbledore pointed his wand at it, "Open." The case burst open and a rope flew out. It was alive, like two hyperactive snakes tied together by their tails. Both ends seemed to have a mind of their own because they kept gawking about wildly and sniffing members of the teams. There were several squeals as the rope wound around people or managed to slither up their robe. At one point the rope spied something it wished to investigate and bounded off to check it out. Unfortunately each end had chosen a different object in opposite directions so that their opposite velocities canceled each other out and they twanged to a dead halt before falling to the ground. The two ends met in the middle and started squabbling, occasionally striking the other with their head in the silly fight.

"Okay, that's enough. Bob, still," Dumbledore said, addressing the rope. The two ends directed their attention to him and seemed to beg like a pair of starving puppies. Dumbledore lowered his gaze in a half-glare. The two ends gave up and fell in two wide arcs in a mock-dramatic Shakespearean death scene. 

"All right everyone, stretch Bob out so that he's lying straight." Several students did so and "Bob" stretched out to about sixty feet in length. It was then that they noticed three bands around him, one at his middle, and two others each about six feet from the middle.

"If you don't know the rules, this is how the game works," Dumbledore began, "Teams of twenty people take places at each end of Bob. When I sound the start of the competition, each team will pull until one of the outer marks passes the middle, which I will mark now." Dumbledore pointed his wand and a hot pink flash colored the grass across where the middle mark was on Bob. "Whichever team pulls the opposite mark across here will win. The trick is, that all the while Bob will be attempting to get away from you because he is very ticklish."

Dumbledore then turned and waved his wand about in the air. A tournament schedule for the tug-of-war match appeared in his hand writing in the same bright pink light that was marking Bob's middle:

****

Winners Bracket

7th Years---|

Game 1 |----______---|

6th Years---| |

Game 4 |----______----|

5th Years---| | |

Game 2 |----______---| |

4th Years---| |

Game 6 |---------______----|

3rd Years--| ||

Game 3 |----______---| ||

2nd Years--| | ||

Game 5 |----_______---||

1st Years---| ||

Bye--------|----______---||

|

****

Losers Bracket Game 12 |----______

|

______---||

Game 7 |----______-----||

______---| ||

Game 8 |----______----||

Best Time---| | ||

Bye ----------|----______---| ||

Game 10 |----______----||

| ||

L of G4---| | ||

Game 9 |----______----|Game 11 |----|

L of G5---| |

|

L of G6----|

Tie Breaker for 5th Place

L of G8---

Game 13 |----______

L of G9---|

1st Place=Winner of Game 12

2nd Place= Loser of Game 12

3rd Place= Loser of Game 11

4th Place= Loser of Game 10

5th Place= Winner of Game 13

6th Place= Loser of Game 13

7th Place= Loser of Game 7

"As you can see," Dumbledore began again, "the First Years have been given a bye because of their exclusion from the Broomstick Relay. This is your chance guys!" he said to the First Years, "This is about the only time you can get a jump on everybody. The first teams to compete will be the Seventh and Sixth Years. If you would all take your places, and everyone else, please back up toward the bleachers. You don't want to be too close if Bob gets loose." 

The other teams retreated about thirty yards away as the seventh and Sixth Years lined up. Dumbledore stood at the center where he had marked the starting line, while Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape refereed the opposite sides of Bob. 

Harry and Ron tried to keep from twitching as they passed Professor Snape, who not-surprisingly was on the Seventh Years' side: Malfoy was on the team, along with Crabbe and Goyle.

"You know," Ron whispered to Harry taking a place in the middle of the line, "This is one time I'm glad those Slytherin lunk heads are here. With a pair of oxes like that there's no way we can loose!" They both had to silence their laughter as they received a suspicious glare from Snape.

"Now that everyone's in place, please pick up Bob."

The teams did so, and the rope shuddered like someone trying to hold in giggles. Dumbledore checked to see that Bob was positioned exactly as he should be. "OK…"

Harry dug his feet into the ground ready to pull with all his might.

"GO!"

The rope was pulled tight as the two teams started the war. But Bob was unmoving.

"Hey," Harry began to ask Ron though gritted teeth as he pulled. The teams were momentarily deadlocked, "I thought the rope was supposed to be ali—"

"OK BOB!" Dumbledore happily roared, and there was a great jerk in the rope. Harry nearly lost his hold on it as it squirmed and flailed about in his arms. There was a great hullabaloo surging though both teams, and the rest of the school was screaming with excitement as the rope bucked about, casting a member of the Sixth Years off. 

The Seventh Years held strong, simply for the fact that they had Crabbe and Goyle on the very end, the wildest part of the rope. Pretty soon the oxen put in their share of the work and the whipping Bob along with the sixth year team was drug across the first mark.

"First game to Seventh Years!" Snape shouted. Suddenly their team was written in the pink lettering on the next line of the winners' bracket. Grinning, Harry and Ron went with the rest of the team over to the sidelines". 

The next teams to play were the Fifth Years and the Fourth Years. Similar problems that had happened to the Sixth Years happened to both teams. Members were getting flung off right and left. Harry was intently watching a skinny boy holding onto the end of Bob for dear life—trying very hard not to laugh since the boy reminded him of himself—being waved about a full five feet off the ground, when Ron started talking to him.

"Harry, what do you think about Hermione?"

Harry's stomach flopped but he tried to remain cool, "Uh…what do you mean?"

"I mean what do you think of her? You know, as a, well, girl."

"Uh…I don't know, why do you ask?" _Ah, guilt_, Harry thought, _How I have missed you. Wow! It's been all of five minutes since I've seen you last, hasn't it?_

"Well, I've been meaning to talk to you for a while about it, and, well we've only got two days left so I better not put it off too much longer. I want to know how you feel about her so I can tell you how she feels about you."

"What?" Harry asked, raising one eyebrow as he looked at Ron.

"When you were out last month, I have _never_ seen her so worried in all the years I've known her. All she could talk about was you. Always asking herself what she was going to do if you didn't pull out of it. Of course she hasn't _actually_ told me anything about how she feels, but I'm not as dumb as I look. She cares for you a lot more than just as a friend, Harry."

"Yeah, I know."

"You know? Well, then how do you feel?"

"Pretty much the same. I just never approached the idea because I figured that you two would—"

Ron howled with laughter before Harry could even finish, "You thought that…" he laughed even harder, "Harry, we can barely stand each other!" Ron fell back onto the grass, laughing so hard that tears were streaming from his eyes. "Good God no! Geeze, you've been holding off because of me?" He stopped laughing and sat up wiping his eyes, "Go after her Harry! I think she wants you to."

Harry smirked, "I already did."

"Huh?"

"I kissed her this morning."

Ron was dumb-struck, but then recovered, "Well OK then!"

By then the Fourth years had been crushed by the Fifth Years.

"Game two to Fifth Years!" McGonagall called out. "Next game Third Years verses Second Years."

During the entire next round Ron tormented Harry with his thoughts about him and Hermione, including first dates, good places for proposal, and even how weird their kids would look. No matter what Harry did he couldn't shut Ron up. His face was irreparably red when, after a very close game that lasted some ten minutes, the Third Years were drug across the line by the Second Years.

"Game three to Second Years!" McGonagall shouted again, "Game four: Seventh Years versus Fifth Years."

The match was short and sweet. The Fifth Years may have put the Fourth Years through the ringer, but with Crabbe and Goyle on the team _nobody_ was going to beat the Seventh Years. The match was over in under a minute as several Fifth Years were thrown off of Bob and the two gargantuan Slytherins lead the teams across the middle mark. 

"Game four to Seventh Years! Game five, Second Years versus First Years."

Back to the side lines they went. Before Ron had a chance to pester Harry again Malfoy and his sweaty beasts of burden came over to torment him. His feeble little mind must have forgotten about he and Harry's confrontation the previous morning.

"Potter, what's this I hear, you're going out with _Granger?_"

Harry glared at Ron. Malfoy had heard every bloody word of Ron's wonderful goading during the third round. And it wasn't true—_yet_. Hermione would probably be pretty mad if rumors were floating about like that again before he had a chance to make them true. 

"No, I'm not," Harry glared up at Malfoy, "And what if I was?"

Malfoy laughed, "Typical. You know Potter, yesterday I thought I saw some hope for you, but you've dashed that all to hell. Why are you two out here anyway? We don't need _muggle-lovers_ on our team." 

Harry and Ron stood up fast, fully ready for a bloody free-for-all…

"Game five to First Years! Game six: Seventh Years versus First Years."

"Come on Draco," Crabbe said.

"Yeah. We can finish this later Potter. You two might as well sit this out. We don't need two skinny runts slowing us down."

__

Skinny runts? Who was he trying to kid? Malfoy was practically a midget compared to Harry and Ron. They had both shot up nearly a foot over Malfoy's head in the last several years.

"Think we could get him turned into a ferret again?" Ron asked as the Slytherins walked onto the field.

"That would be sweet." 

Harry and Ron joined the rest of the team. Unfortunately the only spaces left on the rope were just in front of Malfoy Crabbe and Goyle who were heading up the rear as they had done on their first two games.

"I thought I told you to get lost, Potter!" Malfoy snarled to Harry who was right in front of him.

"Ferret," Ron muttered.

"Ferret," Harry agreed.

"_What_?" Malfoy barked.

"GO!" Shouted Dumbledore.

The two teams pulled in an absolute deadlock. Crabbe and Goyle had several family members among the First Years. This was going to be interesting. They stayed in that equilibrium for nearly five minutes, neither side gaining any ground, neither side loosing any teammates from Bob's bucking. If fact, he was pulled so tight that Bob couldn't have bucked if he wanted to.

Then Malfoy got too sick of looking at the back of Harry's head. In order to display his disgust for him he kicked one of Harry's feet out from under him. 

It was not pretty…

Harry fell back on Malfoy...

Malfoy fell back on Crabbe...

Crabbe fell back on Goyle…

Bob got loose…

And with the great and sudden loss of the two anchors the entire seventh year team was slung on top of the first year team in a great pile of flailing arms and legs with a psychotic rope turning circles in the grass in order to scratch all of his tickled sides.

It was not pretty at all.

In fact, both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were too shocked by the rumpled mess of the match to call out the winner.

"Potter, you idiot! You cost us the match!" Malfoy yelled from under Harry.

"_I_ cost us the match!?!" Harry bellowed back, jumping up, "You tripped me you jerk!"

"Don't blame me for your clumsiness!"

"_My clumsiness!?!_ _YOU TRIPPED ME!! _This is _your_ fault!"

"POTTER!" Snape screamed. Harry froze just as he was about to deck Malfoy. "Ten points from Gryffindor for instigating a fight."

Harry twitched several times before turning his back on the three laughing Slytherins and retreated back to the sidelines along with those that had managed to untangle themselves from the carnage.

"Game six to First Years…" McGonagall yelled, pausing to untangle a couple of students, "Game seven: Sixth Years versus Fourth years!"

The teams hobbled off the field as the Seventh Years were put up onto the Losers' Bracket. They didn't play again for four games. In the end they were back on the field facing the Fifth Years. Harry and Ron took the front of the rope to make sure not to be near Malfoy again.

They ground the Fifth Years into the dust totally and unmercifully.

"Game 11 to Seventh Years! Game 12: Seventh Years versus First Years!"

They waited as the defeated Fifth Years retreated off the field and the First Years came back up. Harry and Ron rolled their eyes as the Slytherins made snide comments to the opposite team, particularly to Crabbe and Goyle's relatives. Despite the Slytherin's bravado the team was determined to win. The teams picked up Bob, who again shivered at their touch.

"GO!" Dumbledore shouted.

There they were again, at total equilibrium. Like before the two teams matched each other for force because of the multiple Crabbes and Goyles. There was no movement for a full five minutes, until several First Years lost their footing. 

There was two feet.

The First Years couldn't gain back their footing.

There were two more feet.

Then finally they fell down completely.

The loss of the first three people on the First Years side gave the seventh year Crabbe and Goyle enough leeway to pull them just inches across the mark.

"Game 12 to Seventh Years! Game 13: tie-breaker for fifth place!"

The two teams were given a minute to stretch while the Third and Fourth Years held match before their own tie-breaker for first place. The classes in the stands were going wild. Harry and Ron saw Hermione whooping in the stands. Harry said she'd look perfect if she just had one of those giant Styrofoam hands, to which Ron gave him a very strange look. "Never mind," Harry said.

"Game 13 to Second Years! Game 14: tie-breaker for first place!"

Then they were in the line up again. They _were_ going to win this. Harry hadn't had this much fun in a long time, although it didn't really compare to Quidditch, and he was forced to be on the same team as Malfoy. In any case it was fun.

"GO!"

And they were off—sort of. 

Deadlock.

But the First Years had lost their confidence—too bad for them. This time several people in the middle lost their footing, creating a domino effect like what had happened on the seventh year team, luckily the anchors weren't taken out, and there were no students sling-shoted across the field this time. 

The Seventh Years were merciless.

Over the line the First Years went.

"Seventh place to Sixth Years!" McGonagall cried.

"Sixth place to Third Years!" Snape shouted.

"Fifth place to Second Years!"

"Fourth place to Fourth years!"

"Third place to Fifth Years!"

"Second place to the First Years!" 

"First place to the Seventh Years!"

"WOO-HOO!" Ron shouted, leaping off the ground, then dancing around in circles with some of the other Seventh Years before all the teams returned to the bleachers.

There were several more games before lunch, including "Dunk the Monk," and the "Bertie Bott's Bean Bowl." "Dunk the Monk" had been won by the First Years, simply because a cute little First Year girl had hit the target and then asked ever so nicely if Nearly-Headless-Nick would float into the water. The Seventh Years took fourth place in that competition. The Bean Bowl had been hilarious. There was one member of each class who was sat down in front of a huge bowl of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans. The first person to eat every bean was the winner. The Seventh Years were doing good until Justin Finch-Fletchley passed out after eating a combination of a toe jam flavored bean and a naval lint flavored bean. The Third Years took first in that competition—iron lined stomachs. 

There was a big cook out at noon and the students were allowed to eat about on the grounds. They were called back at one for the rest of the competition. The first game they held after lunch was the muggle studies Jeopardy match. Hermione squealed with excitement when it was announced. Harry groaned as he was grabbed by his robe and drug back onto the field. 

It was pathetic really.

Hermione answered everything. The only time the other teams got any points was when she forgot to answer in the form of a question. Exasperated, Harry just sat with his forehead on the table in front of him. If he knew an answer he started to raise his wand to signal Professor Poncilian, but before he even got his wand an inch off the table Hermione had already answered the question. 

The "Ameba Race" came next. The ten people from each class inched down to the field fearing the worst. No one saw any microscopes so they thought that they _might_ be safe. Several markers had been set up on the field. Finally the game was revealed to them. Ten people from each team would stand bunched into a clump with a rope tied around the entire group so that they were like one animal with twenty feet, thus the "ameba" part of the title, and then had to run the course of the race. The fastest time would win. The Fifth Years took first in the game, being the one team that didn't fall into a heap as they were running around the markers. The Seventh Years came in second, having only fallen once. 

Harry was on the edge of his seat. It had to be about time for the broomstick relay. The course of the race had been set up during lunch. There was a great maze of tunnels and markers floating high above the Quidditch field. He was about to fall out of his seat as Dumbledore began to announce the next competition.

"Our next match, will be a competition of skill and accuracy."

Harry rubbed his hands together. He had been dying to get out on his Firebolt all day. It was the first time in months that he'd even wanted to. He sat bouncing his knees waiting for the competition to be called.

"However, no one signed up for this match, so we will be pulling the competitors from the stands."

"What?" Harry, Hermione, and Ron all chimed at once. 

"I thought they were all filled," Harry said.

"What one was up there that no one would enter?" Hermione added

"Who knows…" Ron answered.

Dumbledore continued, "Since this is his competition, I'm going to let Professor Snape explain it."

"Does that answer your question?" Ron sneered.

"_Great_," Harry groaned. "You know he's going to pull me for the Seventh Years and make me take a potion to grow scales or something."

"In that case don't worry," Hermione said, mussing his hair, "You look good in green."

"Funny…"

Serverus Snape stepped out onto the field. He waved his wand in the air and suddenly seven potion stations rose out of the grass, complete with cauldrons, dragon hide gloves, fires and all the like. A master table appeared directly in front of Snape, hundreds of herbs and mixings lying across the table, and a small cauldron. Snape pointed his wand to his throat and began to speak.

"Here is how this is going to work," his magnified whisper echoed through the suddenly silent stands, "I am going to pull the competitors from the stands for my competition since all of you felt too inferior to enter it. I will choose seven different potions, one for each class. The first class to finish with the most accurate results will win. Understand?" 

Silence.

"I thought so. I will start with the First Years."

Snape tapped his wand on the cauldron in front of him. Steam rose out of the inside and eerie green letters formed above it in his handwriting. 

__

Purputa

"The First Years will brew this pungent dye."

"_Dye!?!_ He's kidding right?" Ron gasped, "Anyone can make _dye!_ If that's what we'll have to make even _I'll_ go down. I don't think you have to worry Harry."

Of course it wasn't that easy. The potions got harder as the years progressed. There was a mixture in the complexity of the potions, all though nothing as easy as _purputa_. They quickly noticed that Snape chose Slytherins for the easy potions and Gryffindors for the hard potions. The other potions included the cure for boils, a shrinking potion, a potion for growing gills, a cure for poison ivy, and a hair growth potion.

Then Snape had come to the Seventh Years.

Harry had his fingers crossed biting his bottom lip as he waited. He mumbled under his breath, "Let be easy…let it be easy…let him choose a Slytherin…don't choose me…"

"Don't worry Harry," Hermione said, "You can handle anything he throws at you."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you aced his final."

"WHAT!?!"

"Yep. Heard him complaining about it as I was passing his door. He's really mad about it too. So don't worry. He's not going to get you. Besides, I want to win this tournament, so I'll volunteer. That way he won't choose you."

They stopped talking as Snape tapped his cauldron.

"Besides, it can't be that hard can it?"

The steam oozed from the mouth and formed one word.

__

Veritaserum

The jaws of every single Seventh year in the stands hit the ground.

"_He can't be serious!!!_" Hermione growled. "Most _graduated_ wizards and witches can't even brew that!"

"We are so totally screwed." Ron muttered.

Harry merely shrunk lower in his seat.

"Now," Snape whispered, a smile curling on his lips, "whom shall we pull from the graduating class?" His eyes shot straight to Harry, who shrunk even lower in his chair so that all that was visible of him were the wild locks of hair sticking up over the seat in front of him.

"He's looking right at me, isn't he?" Harry whispered to Ron.

"Bang on."

"Crap!"

Hermione jumped out of her seat to volunteer…

"_HARRY POTTER!_"

…but it was too late.

Harry sat up and started pounding his forehead with the heel of his hand.

"Harry stop it!" Hermione hissed. "You'll do fine, just remember that this is unfair. Don't worry if you screw up. Just remember not to add any Francium to water*."

"_What?_"

Hermione shook her head, "Never mind—it's chemistry."

Harry looked at her through his parted fingers slack-jawed. "I can't believe that you're taking muggle courses on your free time."

Hermione shrugged, "I'm trying to be well-rounded."

"POTTER!" Snape shrieked. Harry cringed, "We're waiting!"

Harry groaned as he pulled himself up to go face inevitable doom. He passed Malfoy, who sneered as he went by. 

On the field Harry glared as Snape handed him the scroll with the recipe on it. He moved to the furthest potion table. 

"Now that we have our competitors, you may begin." 

Harry unrolled his scroll and stood dumbfounded. He had never seen _any_ of these ingredients. He'd read about them of course, but had never actually _seen _them. How was he supposed to make a potion if he didn't even know what he was supposed to use? Crushed Grimmble fangs…Loache poison…and…_salt?_…There was salt in truth serum? This was not going to be fun. Harry would be lucky if he didn't blow himself up. He immediately saw two ingredients that would explode if placed together. What was Snape thinking? Noticing that Snape had abandoned the other students to come and watch Harry made the answer apparent. He was pissed that someone besides Hermione had gotten an "A" on his final. What made it worse was that person was _Harry_. Well, he wouldn't have to be mad much longer if Harry accidentally blew up the school.

Harry moved to the master table that had all the ingredients laid out. _OK_, he thought to himself, _the only ingredient that you know here is salt…so…Grimmble fangs…Grimmble fangs are black and look like shark's teeth…_He scanned the contents of the table. Of course nothing was labeled. Snape was trying to destroy the school. Especially if Pansy Parkinson's little brother, who happened to be the Slytherin Snape picked for the First Years, got a hold of the wrong materials. He'd already managed to boil his cauldron over, extinguish his fire and had dyed his entire left side chartreuse. _How can he mess up making_ dye_!?! _Harry asked himself.

__

There! Grimmble fangs! He saw them, half hidden behind a great jar of pickled gleats. Harry gently fingered the fangs out of the jar and looked for the other ingredients. _OK…two down…salt and fangs…now we need Loache poison…that's a dark blue…makes pink bubbles if you shake it…_he looked through about fifteen bottles of blue fluid until he found the right one. 

Harry saw Snape frowning out of the corner of his eye. Obviously Snape hadn't thought Harry would find _any_ of the ingredients. His face distorted more as Harry managed to find all ten ingredients. 

Harry returned to his station and started crushing his fangs and gave a great sigh of relief as Snape's piercing gaze left him. Parkinson had added a pickled gleat to his cauldron and blew up his station. Snape went over to clean up the mess. 

While Snape was gone Harry managed to follow all the directions and got all of the ingredients into the pot and was stirring happily for there hadn't been any explosion when he added the Creploid sap to the Cremmwell root. If the root was heated and the sap was cooled they gave no reaction. Unfortunately as Harry was stirring his potion he couldn't help up feel disheartened. _Veritaserum_ was clear and flowing. What Harry had right now was black gloop as thick as tar.

__

OK, he said to himself again,_ how do I make this crap clear…I've followed all the directions, but it still isn't right…_ He scratched his head as he looked over the scroll again. The last step was to heat thoroughly. He glanced at his fire. It was rather pitiful. _Maybe it isn't hot enough…_ He pushed his glasses up and ran his studies in potions that year through his head, _Let's see…the stuff got black when I added the Grimmble fangs, and globby when I added the Creploid and Cremmwell. The reaction between those two caused that…and made the potion cool. If I heat it more it should thin out. But that will make the Loache poison make the fangs even darker…_ He looked at the scroll. After heat thoroughly it said to cool immediately. _I suppose if I practically freeze it when I first pour it out that will cause the Kite blood in the Loache poison to escape…yeah…I think this is going to work…I can't wait to see Snape's face…_Harry sniggered to himself.

He backed away from his stand, first taking out his wand. He tapped it on the table and pointed it at the fire. "_Fervorous._" The small fire flared up and engulfed his cauldron. He heard screams in the stands. He glanced over at Snape, whose face was even more contorted than it had been before. _This is great!_ Harry thought. 

After about a minute he moved his wand in a cut it off like an orchestra conductor. The fire returned to normal. He rushed up to the cauldron. Taking his tongs he quickly poured the now fluid ebony liquid into a beaker. He took out his wand again, pointing it at the beaker, "_Glacia._" The beaker was hit with a blue-white light and was encrusted in a thick layer of ice. Dark steam was let out of the mouth of the beaker as the potion on the inside cooled. Harry looked into the beaker as the fumes subsided.

Crystal clear.

Harry felt a wide grin cross his face. 

He sat his wand down on the table.

"Professor Snape," Harry called, "I'm finished."

There was a great round of applause from the stands. He was the first one done. 

The look on Snape's face was classic.

He strode over to Harry's station. Harry took his tongs and poured the potion into a vile, his smirk still clinging to his lips. He noticed Snape had an irritated twitch in his eye as he looked at the potion. He picked up the vile and held at eye level.

Despite his irritation he managed to keep his stern and unyielding tone as he spoke, "Do you take me for a fool, Potter? And just how do I know that this isn't just water?"

"If you don't believe me then test it."

Snape's eyes narrowed, "Test it yourself."

"What proof will you have if I test it. I can just pretend to answer truthfully. You have no idea whether my answers are accurate or not. If you test it then you'll know that it works."

Snape scowled, but Harry just stared defiantly. He was hitting Snape right where it hurt—his pride. He lifted the vile and held it under his nose. It didn't have any scent. He shook his head, "It's just water. Ten points from Gryffindor for cheating." Snape sat the vile back in its holder and turned on his heel to walk away.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" Harry asked after him.

Snape jerked to a stop and turned, "What was that!?!"

"Yeah. You're afraid to admit that I did it. You don't want to admit that I've come further than you had when you graduated."

"That's five more points for your cheek Mr. Potter," Snape strode back, lifting the vile, then pointing his wand at his throat, "_Sonorus._" Snape turned to the school, "I have caught Mr. Potter cheating. He has tried to pass off ordinary water for the truth potion, _Veritaserum_. He denies that he has cheated, therefore, I will test this potion as proof.

Harry's eyes widened. Snape was actually going to do it! This was worth the 15 points from Gryffindor! He knew full well that his potion was correct…which meant he could ask Snape _anything_, and Snape would _have_ to answer. _Ooooo! Somebody up there likes me!_ Harry cheered in his head as Snape downed the vile.

Harry saw Snape wince at the taste—Snape knew he was in trouble now, but he acted otherwise. "I knew it. Just ordinary fresh water. Do you take me for a fool Potter?" Despite Snape's bravado Harry noticed the slight pucker in his lips at the aftertaste.

Harry smirked before picking up his wand, "_Sonorus._" Harry took a deep breath, "Professor Snape, did that really taste like water?"

"Of course it didn't!" He snarled back before he could stop himself. Snape's hand shot up to cover his mouth. The students tried very hard not to laugh, especially when Snape cursed before his hand went up.

"Professor Snape, did you hand pick that potion specifically for me so that I'd make a fool out of myself?"

"Of course I did, Potter!" Snape cursed again, trying to keep his mouth shut.

"Professor Snape, have you indeed taken the truth potion, _Veritaserum_?"

"Yes you moron!" Again he cursed. The crowd was going wild with laughter.

"Professor Snape, you really should control your language!" Harry smiled, trying desperately not to break out into laughter himself. Before Harry could ask another question there came a voice from the audience. Harry recognized it as Neville Longbottom. 

"Professor Snape, is it true that you wear underwear with little red hearts on them and sleep with a teddy bear?"

Hopefully Snape didn't recognize Neville's voice so that he could torment him later. Neville was finally able to get revenge on the seven years of hell Snape put him through…

"YES!!!" Snape bellowed at the crowd, which by now was an ocean of students shaking uncontrollably with laughter.

A defeated Snape stormed over to the remaining stations of the competition, snarling, "First place to Seventh Years," through clenched teeth as he went.

Harry returned to the stands triumphantly and was met with great applause. He immediately noticed Neville sitting in his seat, and for the first and probably only time in life looking smug with satisfaction.

"That was you wasn't it?" Harry asked as he sat down.

Neville only smiled broader and nodded his head.

"Oh my God!" Ron roared, "I am never going to forget the look on Snape's face!" He wiped at his eyes, "That moment when he answered Neville was the pinnacle of my school career!"

"How did you manage it Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Just reasoned through it." 

He beamed.

Harry was in his seat for only a few seconds before…

"The Broomstick Relay!" Dumbledore called, "All participants please report to the field.

Harry bounded up and made his way down to the field again.

"Think you're pretty smart, huh Potter?" 

Harry's eye twitched uncontrollably just like Snape's had.

"Jealous Malfoy?"

"Why would I ever be jealous of a runt like you?"

__

There he goes with the runt_ crap again! Is he _blind_ or something!?!_

Harry quickened his pace to get away from Malfoy.

"You know, it isn't going to last."

"What?" Harry stopped and turned.

"You know exactly what I mean." Malfoy sneered, "_He's_ been inactive for a while, but it's just the calm before the storm." Malfoy laughed, "_He's_ going to get you _Potty_."

"Are you threatening me, Malfoy?"

"Not at all," he rammed his shoulder into Harry as he passed, "just saying what every one already knows. I'm taking this competition, Potty."

__

He's trying to freak me out. Harry said to himself, _Guess the moron keeps forgetting we're on the same team._

Still, for the first time that day, Harry became aware of the all-too-familiar sting in his scar.

The course consisted of multiple laps dives and turns, including going through several floating tunnels. The race itself would only take about five minutes, and there were seven people on a team who were positioned all across the field. Harry was placed at the final lap, where he waited some 75 feet in the air, 25 feet in front of a great curving tunnel. He would have to fly though the narrow space and then beat it back to the finish line, first going into a spiral around a tall pole. At the bottom he had had to switch the blue baton he was handed for a red one floating at the bottom of the pole about two feet from the ground. 

Each player had the same kind of course, and at some point they had to trade batons as proof that they completed their section of the race. The only rules were that the batons must be switched, and if anyone in the course of the race dropped their baton and it hit the ground, the team would automatically be put into last place. If more than one team dropped their baton then they would be racing against each other for the last places. For instance, if both the second and Third Years both dropped their batons, then they would be vying for fifth and sixth place. If a team dropped a baton more than once a similar process would be put into progress.

In any case, Harry didn't care what the rules were, or what he had to do. He was just happy to be in the air. He hadn't been flying since the last Quidditch match and thoroughly missed it.

Then Dumbledore gave the signal and the six teams were off. Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for the Second Years. They only had two Quidditch members on their team, and therefore their flyers weren't as trained as the other five teams. In any case, the Second Year's first player dropped their yellow baton before he was even ten feet from the starting line. Later on someone on the Second Year team fell off their broom in one of their tunnels, the broom continuing out of the other end with no rider. They finished dead last.

Harry flew back and forth in this spot waiting for his turn to let loose. There went the green baton from one of the Ravenclaw beaters, handing it to the Hufflepuff seeker. The seeker did an upward loop-the-loop up to a floating purple baton and traded it off, and into a tunnel she went. Seconds later she came out of the other end and passed the purple baton on to—_Oh no_—Malfoy. _Great_, Harry thought, _He has to hand the blue one off to me_. Harry shook his head in disgust and got into position. He knew Malfoy was going to give him trouble.

__

Here he comes…Malfoy shot out of his tunnel, holding the blue baton in his right hand. Harry held his left hand out to catch the baton as Malfoy passed. He clasped onto it and started to take off.

"Potter, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Harry stopped moving to look at Malfoy who was trying to pull the baton out of his hand. "I said that _I _was going to take this competition."

Harry yanked back on the baton, "Are you trying to get us disqualified?"

"Not at all!" Malfoy snarled and pulled again, this time the baton flying out of both their hands and down toward the ground.

"Nice going you idiot!" Harry snarled.

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort, but Harry didn't stick around to listen. He could catch that thing before it hit the ground easy. He pulled his Firebolt up and did a backward dive after the baton. He heard terrified shrieks from the stands as he plummeted toward the ground at a 90-degree angle. He didn't know why they screamed. He went into dives like this all the time after the Golden Snitch. It wasn't anything new.

The baton was falling fast, but Harry was accelerating even faster.

60 feet…

55 feet…

45 feet…

30feet…

10 feet…

Harry caught the baton at scarcely five feet from the ground and pulled up from the dive barely scraping his knees on the grass. He let down one foot and pushed off the ground shooting back towards Malfoy. He saw the Third and Sixth Years enter the last tunnel. Harry gripped the handle of the Firebolt even tighter and bulldozed into Malfoy, ramming him in the shoulder the same way he had in the stands and then vanished into his tunnel. He mumbled about how big a jerk Malfoy was as he went though the dark curving tunnel, barely missing the walls on turns as he picked up speed. He came out of the tunnel like a bullet before spiraling down the long post to the bottom where the red baton awaited. He saw the Sixth and Third Years on the final stretch to the finish line. He was determined to win this just so he could throw it in Malfoy's face. 

He didn't slow as he spiraled down the pole. He wasn't even going to pause for the red baton. He fixed the blue baton between his ring and little fingers, and would grab the red one with the rest of his hand.

ZOOM!

There he went past the bottom of the pole, the red baton now in his hand and the blue baton swirling in circles where the red baton had been floating. There were more screams at this upward turn and also at his speed. Harry didn't know how fast he was going, but the wind was whistling so loud in his ears that he could barely hear the people in the stands. 

He zipped onto the final stretch of the race, the Third Year player and the Sixth Year player well ahead of him.

He came up fast, in less than ten seconds, so that all three were neck and neck as they crossed the finish line. 

Harry shot passed it. In his rush to catch up to the other two players he'd forgotten one simple thing about speeding up so much.

HOW ON EARTH WAS HE GOING TO STOP!?!

He sped toward the fence circling the stadium. _Oh crap…_ Harry thought. _Well, if I crash, at least I'm not going to go into the stands again like I did in the first game this year._

He tried with all his might to slow the Firebolt, but it was no use. Finally when he was barely two feet from the fence he made a sharp right turn and found himself in a fast inward spiral. After about 15 rounds he slowed to the point where he could safely jump off of his broom. He did so and dizzily fell first to his rear and then to his back, watching what he swore were little miniature Malfoys buzzing around his head on broomsticks.

Within seconds he saw Professor McGonagall's stern face looking down on him, "My Lord, Harry, are you all right?"

Harry squinted at her before mumbling, "I'd be great if you'd stop pacing around me..."

"I'm standing still, Mr. Potter."

"Oh…"

"In all my years at Hogwarts I have _never_ seen such reckless flying. You had to of been going almost 90 miles per hour! Were you _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

"Uh…no?" he mumbled as he tried to grab one of the imaginary Malfoys.

Professor McGonagall let out an exasperated sigh before helping Harry to his feet and walked him back to the finish line.

It was a photo finish, taken by Professor Flitwick. The picture showed the three students going across the finish line over and over again. He gave the picture to Dumbledore, who tapped his wand on it as the three of them crossed and froze them in place.

He held the picture up. "Sixth place to the Second Years, Fifth Place to the Fourth Years, Fourth Place to the Fifth Years, Third Place to…" he looked very closely at the picture, "the Sixth Years," he paused again to build suspense, "Second Place to the," he again scrutinized the photo, "Third Years, and First Place to the Seventh Years!" 

The Seventh Years in the stands went wild, and the Seventh Year team came and nearly attacked Harry with pats on the back, all accept Malfoy who sulked several feet away, before lifting him up off the ground. 

Harry, who was still rather mixed up from his complicated stop, was barely able to mumble, "Wha…did we win?" 

"Yeah, didn't you hear Dumbledore just say that?" someone said.

"Oh…WOO-HOO!" Harry jumped above the people holding him up. They lost their hold on him and dropped him on his head.

Harry woke up in the hospital wing with a nagging lump on his skull. Ron and Hermione were sitting beside him.

"You never cease to amaze me, Harry," Hermione said, "You can come out of two 75 foot dives without a scratch on you, but you practically give yourself a concussion from a little four foot fall!"

"Oh my God, Harry, that was the COOLEST thing I've ever seen!"

"What, me cracking my skull?"

"No you idiot, that dive! You were going faster than…than anyone I ever saw fly before in my life!"

"How long have I been out?"

"Only about ten minutes."

"Did they say who won over-all?"

"No, Dumbledore's going to tell us at the banquet."

Madame Pomfrey came through the curtain, "Oh, good you're awake. Here take this, it will help with the swelling," she handed Harry a vile of green liquid that tasted like feet, "And you can be free to go. You took a bad conk on the head, but it isn't so serious that I have to hold you over."

They left the hospital wing, Harry rubbing the back of his head as they went. Hermione was jabbering on about her figures and the exact number of points that each team managed to earn, and Ron was babbling about the look on Malfoy's face when Harry rammed him. They returned to the Gryffindor quarters both to kill time and to get ready for the Seventh Year banquet that was to take place in about four hours.

__

*In the periodic table the first column of elements reacts explosively with water. The top elements react the least, and the bottom elements react the most. Francium is on the very bottom, therefore: "You put a little Lithium in water and you get some fireworks. You put a little Francium in water and it was nice knowing you."

OK, I don't know why, but my bracket for the tug-of-war tournament got all screwed up when I uploaded the story. It's not that important, sorry for any confusion. I'd fix it if I knew how, unfortunately I'm a moron

More disclaimers:

  1. "Dunk the Monk," is a game that the gargoyle, Hugo, mentions in Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame © Disney animation.
  2. "Woo-hoo," is Homer Simpson's catch phrase from The Simpsons, I have no idea who owns The Simpsons, so I won't even guess.


	4. The Graduation Banquet

The Fall of the Dark Lord __

Disclaimer: I own no characters in this story, I claim most of the spells and a certain mystic sign of Power and the actual story line.

Author's notes: as I've said before, forgive me when I make references to other places (mainly in lines, I can't help myself!), 10,000 Who's Line Is It Anyway points to anyone who finds them all! I'm aware of at least two in this chapter.

****

The Fall of the Dark Lord

Chapter 4: The Graduation Banquet

The common room was still buzzing with excitement from the competition when Harry, Hermione and Ron walked in. Harry was met with praises similar to those Ron was spouting on their way back from the hospital wing and he felt his ears turn red. Looking for a quick retreat he made a few hasty comments before bolting to the boys' dormitory until everyone's adrenaline calmed down.

Once he was upstairs and out of the crowd he flopped down on his bed and became aware of the low stinging in his scar. It was different than it had been at other times. The pain was dull and lasting. Any other time it had been short-lived, but still excruciating. All enjoyment from earlier in the day was quickly wiped away by his normal disturbed thoughts. His fingers found the scar and traced the shape over and over again.

"Primus…Primus…Damn it, what does that mean!?!" he growled. He got back up quickly and walked into the upstairs bathroom. He leaned on the sink and stared in the mirror, pulling his bangs away from his forehead. The pain was still there. He had gone to Dumbledore any other time his scar hurt. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea now…and maybe Dumbledore could give him some insight on his dreams… "Remember…set me free…if you want to save any of them…" Harry shook his head in frustration, "I don't understand!" He dropped his hand and growled again, "Damn it!" He brought his fists down hard on the sink and heard a very loud crack. 

When he looked up the mirror above the sink had been broken: a great fissure spread across the middle. Harry gasped and quickly looked about to see that no one had witnessed it. He left the bathroom at once to go strait to Dumbledore.

Harry stood outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office, trying to think of what the password might be. The job wouldn't have been as tedious if the original gargoyle was still the guard, but its head had accidentally been smashed by the Weasley twins when they were still their mischievous selves. A new gargoyle had been brought in, and a very dumb one at that.

"Chocolate Frogs?"

"Duh…Nope…Nope…Nope…" the statue wagged its head, "Try again," the statue smiled and batted it's blank eyes.

"Every Flavored Beans?"

The statue only giggled.

"Marsh-mellow Tweets?"

"Un-uh."

Harry sighed and fell back against the wall behind him. He crossed his arms in thought. "Butterbeer!"

"Mmmmmmmmno."

Harry paused and held the bridge of his nose as he thought. He heard footsteps coming his way. He looked up.

"Potter, what are you doing sneaking around up here?"

__

Ah, Snape. Irritable as ever.

"I need to talk to Dumbledore, do you know where he is?"

"No."

"Are you still under the truth serum?"

"Yes," Snape snarled, "Damn it, Potter! I am going to have your head on a platter for this!"

"I didn't make you take it, Snape. You knew full well it was real."

"Potter, I swear…"

"Do you pose any real threat to me?"

"No. Jesus Christ!" Snape turned, baring his teeth in frustration.

"Think of it this way Professor Snape," Harry said, "in two more days I'll be out of your hair forever."

"Thank God for small favors!" Snape snarled, walking past him.

"It'll wear off in another hour," Harry called after him.

"I know that you idiot!"

As soon as Snape was gone Harry went back to his guessing game with the gargoyle. "Jelly Worms?"

"Nu-uh."

"Sugared Salamander Tails."

"Nope."

"Reeses Peanut Butter Cups," a voice called from down the hall. The gargoyle jumped down from his station. Harry looked down the corridor to see Professor Dumbledore approaching him.

"But that's a muggle candy!" Harry complained.

"I know, but they're still good. I like to eat the peanut butter first. I'll take it you need to talk to me Harry?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Then step into my office," Dumbledore let Harry enter before him and the gargoyle jumped back in place after Dumbledore passed into the room. Harry sat down into the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, where the headmaster soon sat down. "What's troubling you Harry?"

"My scar's been hurting, nearly constantly all day. I just noticed it after the competition though. It's different than normal, it's dull, and well, constant. Normally it comes for only a few seconds, and it's biting, like hot knives, but this is different."

"I see," Dumbledore said, crossing his fingers, "Do you think that Voldemort is up to something?"

"I don't know…" Harry's gaze fell for several seconds, his fingers felt along his scar again, "Professor, what does the word 'Primus' mean to you?"

Harry saw the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye light up for a second, "It depends where it's used. 'Primus' is Latin for first, or foremost; principal; distinguished; eminent…does that help at all?"

Harry sighed, "Not really…"

"Harry, is there something that you're not telling me?"

"Yeah…for the past year or so, I've had recurring nightmares of the night Voldemort killed my parents. I mean, not what they used to be…not the screams and the light…no…the whole night—exactly what happened. I think I'm actually _seeing_ what happened to them. The actual event, not something fabricated. Last month when I…lost myself…last month was the first time I'd seen _everything_. I couldn't handle it…what Voldemort did to them—to my father in particular—it was just to much…his eyes…" Harry brought his hands up to his own eyes without even realizing it.

"What happened to James' eyes Harry?"

"God…Voldemort shattered his glasses lens into his eyes…completely blinded him…"

Dumbledore nodded, "_Quassarius._ The Shattering charm_…_That can be a nasty defensive or torture sometimes…" 

"Anyway," Harry started up again, "Last night was the first time I ever saw past the light. I saw _how_ I survived, but I still don't understand why. Dumbledore, I already had my scar! It was lighter, but it was _there_. But, after he killed my mother, it got darker—blood red…and Voldemort seemed afraid of me. Weird things were happening. The lights exploded…the windows shattered…the walls were shaking…and Voldemort wasn't doing it. He was…_afraid_…And then he turned to me and was yelling, as if _I_ was doing it, and I think I was. He cast the _Avada Kedavra_, and it hit me, right on the scar and split it open, but it reflected back onto him…and then the house came down, and everything fell around me, as if I was behind an invisible shield." Harry looked at Dumbledore, who still had the twinkle in his eye. "Can you tell me what any of it meant?"

Dumbledore put his hands on his desk, "Harry, I could give you theories, but I know that you are the only person who can truly find your answers, and I think that you are very close to finding them now. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. After the house caved in, everything faded into darkness, and then _I_ was in the dream, and I confronted—I guess it was supposed to be my subconscious. There was another boy there, a double of me…and yet not. He was different than me…he was cold…and his scar was blood red like it had been in the first part of the dream. He kept saying that I had to remember and that I had to set him free if I was going to save any of them. He didn't tell me what I was supposed to remember, how I was supposed to set him free, or who I needed to save…it's driving me crazy…and it all has to deal with that stupid word, I can feel it in my bones!"

Dumbledore crossed his fingers again and leaned his forehead against his closed hands. He took a deep breath and exhaled, "Harry, I have a very solid theory over all of this. In fact I am almost certain that I am correct, but I think that you would do better if you figured this out for yourself. Once you are closer to understanding maybe I can tell you some of the answers. I want you to keep your guard up right now. If your scar has been hurting, then Voldemort is most likely planning something. Be very careful, and if you notice anything else strange, be sure to come to me immediately. I have to prepare for the banquet now, I suggest you do the same. Is there anything else you need Harry?"

"No sir."

"Well then, why don't we get out of this stuffy old hole?"

Harry got out of the chair and started for the door, "Professor, one of the mirrors in the boys' dorm is broken."

"What happened?"

"I…had an accident…split it down the middle."

"Well, I'll have Filch look into it."

"Thank you Professor."

"Well, that didn't help at all," Harry complained to himself as he walked back to the Gryffindor common room. He paused at the picture of the fat lady, "Ingrown toenails." The portrait swung open and Harry went in. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he went. He saw Ron and Hermione in front of the fireplace playing a game of chess. Hermione was hopelessly losing. "How's it going?" Harry asked sitting down beside her noticing that Ron's knight was beating the crap out of her last pawn.

"How does it look like it's going?"

Ron had nearly every one of his pieces encircling Hermione's king. After her last move he had her in a five-way check.

"Give up?" Ron asked.

Hermione groaned, putting her hand over her eyes and moved her king to the left.

"Checkmate!" Ron's rook clobbered her king and it was over.

"I demand a rematch!"

"Harry, do you want to play a game?"

"Nah, that's OK. I'd rather watch you two."

"Sure you would," Ron smirked, noticing that Harry hadn't looked at the chessboard at all since he sat down.

"Hermione," Harry started. She looked at him, still disgruntled by her horrible defeat.

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering, would you like to go to the banquet…_together_…tonight?" Harry stammered. She smiled.

"I'd love to Harry," she suddenly glanced at her watch, "Oh, wow! Look at the time, I guess I'd better get ready, shouldn't I?" With that she jumped up and briskly went up to the girls' dorm.

Harry looked over at Ron who could barely contain himself until Hermione was out of sight.

And then he was on Harry in an instant, mussing his hair and cooing about Harry and Hermione's first date. "Did you see how fast she went to get ready? She wants to look _extra_ special, Harry!"

"Get off!" Harry snarled as they entered into a short wrestling match, "Get off now!" It ended with Ron sitting on Harry's back with Harry propping his face up with one arm and monotonously wrapping his fingers on the floor with the other until Ron had gotten his fill of tormenting him.

Soon they went to get ready themselves, Ron rather excited because he had been able to get brand new dress robes that year that didn't look like an frumpy old lady's nightgown. They were royal blue with silver trimmings. Harry had remained with basic black, although they did have gold trimmings for flair.

Ron was taking his time getting ready, slicking his hair back in an attempt to look suave. "Hey, you're only going to be a Seventh Year once, right?" Harry had taken one good look in the mirror and given up. Hermione would just have to settle for the anime look. _Lord knows they draw everyone's hair sticking up like mine._ A couple of Second Years from muggle homes were very interested in anime. Harry pondered himself as the character Van Fannel for several seconds before Ron grabbed him by the arm and headed out to the common room.

It was about 7:30, and the banquet was starting at 8:00. The common room was buzzing with excitement. All of the Seventh Years were in dress robes, although the other six classes could choose whether or not to wear them. The upper classes were wearing them, but the First and Second Years generally didn't. Harry and Ron sat playing a game of chess while they waited for Hermione, although Harry was watching the door to the girls' dorm more than the chessboard, and was getting beaten mercilessly because of it.

"Oh, come on Harry! You're not even trying!"

"Sure I am," Harry looked down long enough to move his knight forward.

"Yeah, you're trying all right! We've been playing for two minutes and you've already got yourself in check!"

"I do?"

"Oh never mind!"

Then she came out, dressed in stunning emerald green robes, the frizziness of her hair tamed into dozens of curls. Harry stood up to meet her and Ron whistled. She looked even better than she had at the Yule Ball their Fourth Year. Harry checked his watch; it was 7:55.

"Don't you look smug," she said when she saw Ron's slicked back hair.

"And don't you look…uh…curly…yeah…curly," he answered.

"Shall we go?" Harry asked, extending his arm.

"Certainly!" she took his arm and the three Seventh Years started to the great hall. Ron nudged Harry in the ribs as they went, and he was elbowed in return.

Hustle and bustle.

That's what the Great Hall was like. Especially for the underclassmen that had never seen the hall so decorated. Sure, Halloween was it's normal blowout, but the Seventh Year banquet was decorated to the extent of a muggle prom. In fact, the Seventh Years' banquet was the equivalent to a muggle prom. Those students who had chosen to only wear their school robes were feeling rather sheepish when they walked into the hall, which had been decorated to resemble an ice cavern, complete with a glistening shine covering the floor, ceiling and all the walls. The tables were moved about so that the floor was completely open for dancing. A small orchestra of about fifteen self-playing instruments had been brought in for entertainment, and were presently floating in front of the faculty table warming up.

Harry, Hermione and Ron entered and approached the Gryffindor Table, which was covered with a shimmering white tablecloth. Harry pulled out Hermione's chair for her, making her blush. The orchestra had started playing a slow sonata as Dumbledore called for everyone's attention.

He stood up at the faculty table and cleared his throat to speak over the quiet music, "Welcome, everyone! I'm pleased to have all of you at the banquet tonight to honor this year's graduating class. It has been twenty years since the rest of the school was invited to it, so you should all feel very privileged. But I'm sure that you are all dying to know who the winners of the Battle of the Classes were. Seventh Place goes to the Sixth Years who won 32 points for their class, Sixth Place goes to the Second Years, who won 34 points, Fifth Place goes to the Fourth Years who won 37 points, Fourth Place goes to the First Years, who won 38 points, Third Place goes to the Third Years, who won 39 points, Second Place goes to the Fifth Years who won 45 points, and last but not least, winning 55 points, the graduating class takes First Place and the coupons for free Butterbeers!"

There were cheers from all the Seventh Years in the hall.

"I told you we'd win," Hermione poked Ron, "My figuring doesn't lie!"

"No, _I_ told _you_ that we would win simply because our class rocks!"

"Well _I_ had the proof!" Hermione shot back.

They continued arguing for several minutes while Harry just rolled his eyes and let them go at it. Harry rubbed his fingers over his scar, the buzzing sensation was getting worse. He tried to ignore it and watched Hermione as she chirped at Ron. He loved the way she got flushed when she was rattled. The buzzing was almost completely out of his thoughts.

Hermione turned to him, "OK, Harry, who do you think is right, me or him?"

"Frankly I don't think it matters, you're both right."

"Oh, come on, you have to take a side! Someone has to be overruled!"

Harry was about to respond when the buzzing in his scar erupted into searing and electric pain. He cried out, falling forward against the table, one hand clutching at his brow, the other clutching the tablecloth. At the same time he heard someone else scream. He opened one eye enough to see Snape across the hall bent over the Slytherin table clutching his left forearm.

The Dark Mark…

Voldemort was calling, and the closer he was to a Death Eater the more painful the burning.

"No…" Harry whispered and clenched his eyes shut again.

"DUMBLEDORE!" he heard Snape yell, "HE'S ON THE GROUNDS!"

Before anyone could react the back wall where the entrance from the lake was suddenly cracked with an incredible force and a space the size of a one-story house crumbled to ruble. A high pitched laugh was heard as the dust cleared and a dark figure stepped up onto the fallen stones.

Screaming and confusion took over as the people in the hall rushed away from the destroyed wall.

"It has taken me three years," a hissing voice was heard though the dust from the figure, "but I have managed to undermine every defense of this compound." 

Dumbledore whipped out his wand, but before he could use it…

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Red light erupted from the figure and Dumbledore's wand flew out of his hand and into the figure's hand.

"Now, we can't have that, Albus, you will spoil my fun…"

"NO!!!" Snape shouted as the figure raised his wand again. He ran forward with his own wand extended, but the figure was too fast.

"_Oppessulare!_"

A purple jet of light shot at Snape, and when it his him this arms locked to his sides causing him to drop his wand. Snape screamed as some force confined his arms tighter and tighter against his sides until a terrible snap was heard as one broke at his elbow. Snape hit his knees as the voice came again from the figure.

"You disappoint me, Severus. The penalty for insubordination, or more importantly _treason_, is death. You threw away a very promising career."

Snape laughed bitterly in pain, "Consider it my greatest honor!"

The figure whipped his arm about and suddenly Snape was thrown backward into the Slytherin table. The figure laughed heartily and walked out of the flying dust.

"Yes," he whispered, his bloody eyes darting about the Great Hall, "it is good to be home. Especially now that my people may tread freely here once more."

As soon as he had said that those who had drawn their wands in defense were horrified as dozens of black-robed figures appeared out of no where all around the hall, each pointing their wands at groups of people.

Harry had jumped back from the table still clutching his stinging scar as Hermione latched onto his arm. They both began to scream as a Death Eater who was unmistakably Lucius Malfoy appeared before them.

"They've apparated!" Hermione gasped, "That's impossible!"

"He's broken all the protections over Hogwarts!" Harry hissed though clenched teeth.

"Do not attempt to resist," Voldemort said, "It is pointless. My powers have tripled in the last three years. I have already won."

__

Disclaimer time again: (lots of quotes in this chapter!)

  1. The stupid gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office is supposed to be Disney's Goofy, hopefully you could tell by his dialect. © Disney animation
  2. "I like to eat the peanut butter first." The Halloween Reeses Peanut Butter Cups commercial where Count Dracula sucks the peanut butter out of the chocolate. © someone other than me.
  3. Van Fannel is a character from the anime series Escaflowne. I own neither one, but I picture Harry's hair to look about like Van's.
  4. "The penalty for insubordination is death. You threw away a very promising career." Line comes from Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, said by Judge Claude Frollo. © Disney animation.
  5. "Consider it my greatest honor!" Line comes from Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, line said by Pheobus. © Disney animation.
  6. "I have already won." line comes from one of the Highlander movies (I think it's the fifth one). Line said by Kain/Cain/Caine (I don't know how to spell the name) © someone other than me.


	5. Repeated History

The Fall of the Dark Lord __

Disclaimer: OK, JK Rowling owns all the characters, I own most of the spells, a certain mystic sign of power, and the actual story line

Author's notes: Yes, I know, I'm evil. Again, you have to forgive references to other places. I've lost count of how many are in this chapter. There's quite a few. 10,000 "Who's Line Is it Anyway" points to anyone who can find them all. Don't forget to review, or I might not write the next part for a LONG TIME! (Don't worry, that's an empty threat.) Thanks a lot, Talia (05/26/01).

****

The Fall of the Dark Lord

Chapter 5: Repeated History

The screaming was terrible, and the students flooded toward the exits of the great hall in fear of Voldemort.

"No," he hissed, "You will all stay to witness my victory." 

Harry watched in horror as Voldemort pointed his wand at the floor, "_Inlaqueareus!_" 

The same light violet light from his dreams erupted from Voldemort's wand and sealed off all the exits of the hall so that everyone was trapped there. Voldemort sneered at Dumbledore before motioning with his wand. Dumbledore was pulled forward. As the faculty made moves to intervene despite the guard of the Death Eaters Voldemort cast another spell, "_Munimentumis!_" A hazy ring of light formed around the hall, entrapping Death Eater, Professor, and student alike in a barricade between the light and the walls of the hall, leaving Voldemort and Dumbledore separated from everyone else. "No interference," Voldemort smiled, "I have waited for this for a very long time, Albus. Tell me, are you ready to die?"

Professor Dumbledore stood unarmed before the Dark Lord showing no hint of fear, "You never could fight fair, could you, Tom?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, "Never call me by that name."

"You are hopeless."

Voldemort scowled, "Fool. _Crucio!_"

Harry heard Dumbledore scream and suddenly the pain in his scar was magnified ten fold. He fell to his knees, Hermione following him. He felt the pain of the Cruciatus Curse rush though his system; he could feel Dumbledore's pain…the same way he had felt…

The image of a screaming woman flashed though his mind, and the wailing infant…it was him…and he could feel _her _pain too…

Harry's eyes snapped open as the pain of the curse subsided. He saw Dumbledore collapsed on the ground at Voldemort's feet. Something was beginning to snap inside of Harry. He could feel his heartbeat in his temples as he watched Dumbledore struggling to his feet again.

"DUMBLEDORE!" Harry cried as Voldemort sent him skidding across the floor with a wave of his wand.

"No…no I can't let this happen!" Harry reached into his pocket for his wand.

"Harry, what are you doing!?!" Hermione frantically whispered.

"I won't stand by and watch this!" Harry choked out. Lucius Malfoy's back was turned as he watched Dumbledore's beating. Harry leapt up, "_Stupify!_" Malfoy never knew what hit him. Before any of the other Death Eaters could stop him Harry ran to the barrier. 

The pounding in his head was terrible. 

He didn't know what he was doing.

He pointed his wand at the barrier and muttered something he didn't even recognize. A rift appeared in the light for several seconds he jumped through and it sealed behind him.

Voldemort's back was to Harry. His wand was raised to strike Dumbledore again.

__

No.

"_Stupify!_" Harry yelled again, this time directed at Voldemort.

The light shot at him, but Voldemort turned just in time to diffract the beam off to one of the walls with a wide sweep of his wand.

"Well, what have we here? Harry Potter. Are you so eager to die that you cannot wait your turn? You were next after all, dear boy."

Harry ignored Voldemort's heart-felt sentiment and looked at Dumbledore's crumpled form. "Bastard!" Harry bit out. "_Expelliarmus!_"

"_Repellerous!_"

The two beams met in midair, but Voldemort's overtook Harry's quickly.

__

It can't be!

The beam connected with the tip of his wand—it shattered—like his fathers…the wood fell in splinters from his hand, Fawkes' feather curled, burned black as it floated to the floor.

"That's impossible…"Harry whispered.

"Oh, I assure you _it is _possible, Potter. _Priori Incantatem_ will not save you this time. I have changed the core of my wand."

Harry looked up from the remains of his wand with a mix of loathing and fear.

"Oh my," Voldemort sneered, "Doesn't this look familiar, where have I seen this before, let me think…" Voldemort put one finger to his mouth in mock-seriousness, "Oh yes, I remember! This is just the way your father looked before he died! And since you are intent on being as foolish as you father was…_Abjicereum!_"

Harry had no time to react. 

It felt like he had been hit by a bus, and the force of the invisible blow sent him flying backwards against the remainder of the back wall. He fell to the ground dazed for several seconds. He coughed…he could taste blood.

"Now let's see," Voldemort hissed, "what came next? Oh yes…I suppose it's pointless to go though the ropes with you Potter. Yes, you are too much like your father to come over, so we will skip strait to…_Crucio!_"

Harry screamed, clenching his fists against the floor.

__

No! He thought to himself. _No, I can't give in…if I do, then he'll kill Dumbledore, and everyone here…or worse…I can't let him!!! _As these thoughts ran through his mind his screams toned down to moans through clenched teeth. _I have to block out the pain! It's the only way! I can't let him do this…I have to find the strength!_

The pounding in his head was growing worse by the second, and not because of the Cruciatus Curse. He could hear Voldemort laughing over his screams. _I won't let him!!! If I don't stop him…_

Voldemort broke off the curse. Harry nearly collapsed before struggling to his feet. _I won't let this happen!_ The pounding in his ears was torturing, and the more he thought of Voldemort winning the worse it got! The apparition's words came back again, _Remember. Set me free. If you want to save any of them set me free. Otherwise you will lose them all._ This was what it had been talking about…Voldemort's attack…

Harry coughed and blood spurted from his mouth. His rage was building inside of him, to the point that he thought he would burst. 

Voldemort raised his wand to afflict him with another curse.

__

NO! I won't let him win! Not after… The images of his dreams flashed before his eyes: his father's torture…his mother's sacrifice…the images came over and over again…_I won't let it happen again!!_

That something that had been building in Harry finally snapped. The pounding in his head gave way to the tingling feeling he'd felt coursing from his scar down his spine in the previous night's dream. It was a raw serge of emotion…of power…of memory…

Harry closed his eyes and lowered his head trembling from the sensation.

"Are you afraid now, Potter?" He heard Voldemort hiss, "Don't worry, it will all be over soon, that's right, just close your eyes. After all, you are defenseless now without your wand…you never had a chance. I have already won! And now, I'm going to finish what I started sixteen years ago!"

Harry's eyes snapped open. Somehow everything had become clear, and he knew exactly what to do. His arms shot up above him, his fingers spread wide. _I don't need my wand. I never needed my wand!_

Voldemort began to shout, "_Avada—_"

"_Quassarius!_"

Suddenly every window of the hall shattered one by one in a fast wave as a surge of blue-white light erupted from Harry. Voldemort was too taken by surprise to finish the curse.

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!" Voldemort shouted with barely enough time to react as the glass came soaring at him. He blocked it with the shield charm and the glass fell to the ground.

"I assure you that it's quite possible," Harry snarled from across the room. "You of all people should already know that, after all, that was the reason you came after us, wasn't it?"

"What?"

"Yes, it's true. You weren't after my parents at all. You were after _me_. You were after me because of this!" Harry tore his bangs away from his forehead, "_I had this long before you came!_" At this outburst a shudder was felt through the walls of the castle.

"No! Stop you fool, you'll bring the roof down on us!"

"No. I won't. It's true that your powers have grown since you were resurrected, but _so have mine! _And I can control them now." Harry made a fast sweeping motion with his arm and sent Voldemort flying backwards. "You have not won Voldemort, you may have earlier, but now you have one small problem. You're no longer dealing with the same Harry. I remember! I remember everything, and I understand, and there is no doubt in my mind that I _will_ defeat you today and it is because of this!" Harry motioned to his forehead again. "What was the name of it, what did you call it? 'The Sign of Primus?'"

Voldemort's face was horror stricken, and for the first time he shook with unbridled fear.

"Yes, that is what it was called! What were your words? Oh yes, I remember…"

Voldemort's voice was suddenly heard echoing throughout the hall, even though Voldemort himself was not speaking:

"_In every millennia or so, there is a witch or a wizard who is born with exceptional power. They are destined to be great leaders of the wizarding world. They make the most potent changes in magical society. They are destined to become the greatest of us all, and the way they are distinguished from the rest of us is by a distinct birthmark in the shape of a lightning bolt; The Sign of Primus._" 

"That is why you came after us. That is why you killed my parents. I was born with it, and you thought that if you raised me then you would have the most powerful wizard of this millennia at your side!"

"_How did you do that you little bastard!?! How did you know!?!_"

"You cannot fathom the changes I've gone through. You are no match for me now. If you would have come a year ago perhaps, but not now. The sleeper has awakened; that power you stunted when I was a baby has been reborn. I will _not_ let you hurt _anyone_ else. I can shatter you with a thought."

Harry walked toward him, that same cold look on his face that he had had when he confronted Malfoy the day before, the same cold look that the apparition had had on its face in the dream. The tingling in his scar had grown more powerful, and he was sure that it had grown darker—become blood red, like in his dreams. His eyes flashed at Voldemort, the bright green of his irises more luminescent then ever.

Voldemort shook uncontrollably. He backed away shaking his head, muttering under his breath about the impossibilities he was witnessing. Harry had gotten too close, his wand shot forward, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The jet of jade light shot toward Harry…

It took him by surprise…

He had no time to react…

His arms shot out…

He threw his leg behind him and braced himself against it…

He clenched his teeth as the light came closer…

He could hear screaming all around him…

But it was drowned out by his thundering heartbeat…

Voldemort would not win this way…

It had failed before, and it would fail again…

The curse struck the shield that Harry had projected around him…

The light did not shatter the shield, although it tried to. Harry shut his eyes tightly as the light broke into a dozen wisps that surged about the shield searching for any entry to the body inside. Harry struggled against the force of the lights. He slowly lowered his arms, leaving them bent at the elbow with his palms facing up and spread as if feeling for rain. He snarled from the strain, throwing his head back, his scar feeling like it would split in two.

Harry slowly brought his arms forward, holding his hands as if he was about to receive a large object. He brought his head back down in concentration as the separate lights slowly began to gather between his hands. 

The light was incredibly bright and incredibly wild. It tried frantically to escape, but Harry had it trapped.

He opened his eyes and looked at Voldemort, his eyes nearly glowing with the same brilliance of the _Avada Kedavra_, his face contorted in hatred, his hair flying about from the force he exerted to control the curse, his scar so dark that it appeared black. He started forward again, the curse raging between his hands. Voldemort frantically backed away before tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground. He continued to back away hastily until his back met with his own barricade and he could retreat no farther. Harry stopped a few feet in front of him, extending one arm with the _Avada Kedavra_ dancing at the end of his fingertips.

"If I release it, you will not survive this time. It has lost no power to me. It is as potent as when it left your wand." Voldemort watched terrified at the bending light, which licked inches away from his body. If one wisp of the light even grazed him he would more than likely die. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't retaliate for all those you've murdered?"

Voldemort sucked in a breath, throwing his arms up in front of his face.

Harry aimed the light and let it fly forward.

The unblockable curse rocketed through Voldemort's barricade and in a great blast left a crater in the floor of the Great Hall the size of a car.

Voldemort brought his arms down in disbelief that he was still alive.

"I will give you a reason: because I will not become a murderer for the likes of you. I have proven here and now that I am stronger than you. If you ever rise up again, I will defeat you again, and the next time I will not be so lenient." 

The force surrounding Harry evaporated. His hair became still, and his eyes and his scar returned to normal. Harry turned his back on Voldemort, who still shook, propped against the barricade. Harry went to Dumbledore, who, like everyone else in the room watched in utter shock. Harry helped him to his feet, ignoring Voldemort.

Voldemort shook, his fear turning into outrage. He had been defeated again—by a mere boy! He would not stand for this. He was Lord Voldemort. He could not be defeated…he would never surrender…not so long as there was breath in his body. He slowly rose to his feet. No, he would not leave it as it was. He still had a trump card to play.

"Boy," he snarled as he got to his feet, "you are a fool. The man you let go can be your downfall. I am Lord Voldemort. I will not be beaten so easily."

Harry turned slowly, the coldness still present on his face, "You are nothing."

Harry may have said something more if he wouldn't have been caught so off guard.

Voldemort had suddenly hunched over making horrible hissing noises, tremors racked his body, and then without warning his form started to grow. His face elongated, his eyes became huge, his robes melted into albino skin and his limbs disappeared.

Within ten seconds a sixty-foot long albino cobra coiled before Harry and Dumbledore.

The snake laughed in Parseltoungue, "_You see Potter, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve! If I cannot beat you by magic, then brute force it is!_"

Harry turned and opened a rift in the barrier again shoving Dumbledore through to the other side just before the snake struck. Harry turned in time to avoid being bitten, but not fast enough to avoid being caught by his robes. 

Suddenly he was raised upside-down thirty feet into the air by Voldemort's jaws. Before he could cast any counter attack he was flung across the great hall strait at the opposite wall. 

In the little time he had he was able to turn facing the wall and slow his velocity slightly, but not enough to keep him from hitting hard. He heard terrible cracking sounds when he hit and shooting pain rushed all through his body. He fell back to the ground unable to move.

__

This is going to be fun. Disclaimer time again:

  1. "Oh my. Doesn't this look familiar, where have I seen this before, let me think…Oh yes, I remember! This is just the way your father looked before he died!" Line comes from Disney's The Lion King, line said by Scar. © Disney animation.
  2. "And now I'm going to finish what I started sixteen years ago!" alteration of a line from Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame: "And now I'm going to do what I should have done twenty years ago," said by Judge Claude Frollo. © Disney animation.
  3. "…but now you have one small problem. You're no longer dealing with the same Harry." Alteration of a line from an episode of Batman the Animated Series, said by Harvy Dent. I'm not sure what the exact line was, but it was close to "You've just got one problem. You're talking to the wrong Harvy." © Warner Brothers Entertainment (I think).
  4. "The Sleeper has awakened," line comes from Dragon Ball Z (© Akira Toriama and Funimation), said by the announcer and Vejita, and The Dark is Riseing Sequence, by Susan Cooper (By the pleasant lake the Sleepers lie…Yet singing the Golden Harp shall guide to break their sleep and bid them ride).
  5. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't retaliate for all those you've murdered." Alteration of a line from Disney's The Lion King: "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip you apart," said by Simba. © Disney animation.
  6. "The man you let go can be your downfall." Line comes from Dragon Ball Z, said by Vejita. © Akira Toriama and Funimation.
  7. "You are nothing." Line comes from Dragon Ball Z, said by Vejita. © Akira Toriama and Funimation

There are 7 more references in my list if you want to see them. Like I've said before, the situational references that can happen in more places than the one I mentioned are not in this document, for example, Harry blocking the Avada Kedavra, the reference I made was specifically what I see in my head, but the actual action I have seen in about 10 different places, therefore I'm not mentioning it here.


	6. Animagus

For the sake of my sanity, we're going to pretend that Gryffindor's symbol is the griffin and not the lion __

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all the characters, I own most of the spells and the actual story line

Author's notes: #1) For the sake of my sanity, we're going to pretend that Gryffindor's symbol is the griffin and not the lion. #2) I'm not sure if I wrote this as well as the other chapters because it was all action and no dialogue for the most part. It went a lot better in my head, I think anyway. #3) Again, 10,000 "Whose Line Is It Anyway" Points to anyone that can find all of my references in this. I think I have one from Disney's Hercules in this chapter, but I think that's it. #4) Please review, don't worry about any threats of not posting more if I don't get reviews, I'M JUST KIDDING! The faster I can get this out of my head, the faster I can sleep at night! Lots of smile from Talia (the sadistically evil) (05/28/01)

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The Fall of the Dark Lord

Chapter 6: Animagus

Harry gasped in pain as he tried to support himself on ruined arms. He felt a huge flow of blood running down his face from his temple where he had hit the wall. He saw Voldemort slithering toward him quickly through cracked glasses. He had to move despite the pain. He had to move _now_ or he was going to die. He forced the pain far back into his mind until it was seemingly gone. He staggered to his feet. He tried again to counter attack, but he was simply too slow. Voldemort lunged forward again, narrowly missing Harry as he dodged the snapping jaws. The snake laughed evilly.

"_You will never win this, boy_."

Harry stumbled backward reaching for the clasps of his robes. The loose fabric was too much of a hazard—they had already caused him serious injuries. He undid the clasps letting the black fabric fall to the ground as he watched Voldemort towering over him.

Voldemort was right. He wasn't going to win this. He was simply too slow. He needed to be something faster—something _airborne_. 

Voldemort struck again, Harry rolling out of the way with only with a thread of margin between him and the snake's fangs. He turned on Voldemort, extending his hand in a claw-like position. "_Crucio!_" Harry shouted, the light shooting out from the center of his palm, hitting Voldemort on the underbelly.

But it had no effect.

The snake hissed again, "_My hide is too thick now, Potter. Spells won't work on me, I've evolved out of that weakness._"

Harry's eyes widened. He turned and started to run to put distance between them, but he only made it a few feet before one of Voldemort's coils had knocked him back.

"_Not so fast, Potter. Do you not want to face death like a man?_"

Harry glared up at the hooded head.

"_Playtime is over._"

He heard the screams all around him.

"_My favorite part of the game: sudden death._"

He couldn't let it end this way. Too many people were depending on him. 

"_Now DIE!!!_"

Voldemort lunged forward for the kill.

"NOOOOOOO!" Harry screamed, jumping backward into the air. Voldemort's motion followed him, but suddenly he felt a tearing in his back. His scream started to change into a shrill screech. He did not fall back to the ground. No. He continued higher, the strange sensation in his back spreading throughout the rest of his body.

He opened his eyes to find Voldemort and was shocked to see that he was high above the Great Hall, high above Voldemort. Harry looked briefly down at himself. His hands had become hooked talons, his feet the back legs of a lion.

Of course! He had willed himself to transfigure. He didn't understand how he had done it, but he had transfigured into a griffin! The need was there, and so the need took shape. Where Voldemort was the symbol of Slytherin, Harry had become the symbol of Gryffindor.

The playing field was even again.

And Harry would take full advantage of that.

He maneuvered in the air and made a sweeping turn around the hall, his eyes locked on Voldemort, who continued to watch, slithering so that his head was prepared to strike when Harry did.

Harry continued to circle the snake, his eyes locked on the Dark Mark which appeared on the cobra's hood. He waited for any opening to strike. He made an abrupt change in direction and saw his opening. He dove extending his talons. Slipping past the poisonous fangs, he sank them deep into the snake's back. It screamed in pain before turning on the griffin. Harry leapt away escaping the snapping jaws again, pieces of dry scaly skin clinging to the bloody talons.

He flew up to one of the support beams and landed on it, the stone threatening to give way under his weight. He was twice the size of a hippogriff, standing at least twelve feet high at the shoulder. The griffin stalked down the length of the beam, a strange crackling growl issuing from his throat as its piercing eyes studied the snake, which coiled about in agony. The lion's tail flicked back and forth and the eagle's strong talons griped the stone hard enough to make pieces crumble.

It leapt again, strait at the snake's underbelly, the same shrill cry escaping its jaws.

Again the talons ripped into the albino flesh, but the move had been miscalculated. The snake's body closed around the griffin, locking it into its grip long enough for it to sink its fangs into the griffin's shoulder. The griffin shrieked in pain struggling to get loose as the cobra's searing poison made its way through its system and the contracting coils threatened to both suffocate it and crush its bones. The griffin's eyes flashed as it turned on the snake's head and buried its beak deep into the snake's left eye. The cobra recoiled, dropping the griffin, which fell to the ground. The snake swerved right and left as blood poured from its ruined socket. The griffin limped in the opposite direction, its talons scraping on the floor as it tried to use its injured foreleg.

In several seconds after both had recovered from the last conflict they both took another attack position; the cobra, its coils gathered behind it and its head low, swaying back and forth; the griffin, its body low to the ground, legs ready to spring at the slightest show of attack.

They moved together...

The snake struck…

The griffin sprang…

There was a fury of beating wings…

Both hit their mark…

The griffin had attacked the snake's eyes…

And as its talons tore into the snake's face, the snake's fangs sank deep into the griffin's thigh…

The snake propelled the griffin into the stone floor. It quickly brought its coils about it so that neither the griffin nor the cobra's head were visible any longer. The coils tightened and shook like mad for nearly a minute until it lay very still.

It was over…

The snake began to move again. Screaming filled the hall as its upper body began to emerge from the pile of coils…

Accept that the cobra's head did not rise from the pile.

The griffin struggled out of the snake's coils and tumbled onto the cold stone floor. It slowly picked itself up and limped away from the cobra barely able to keep its balance with the poison coursing through its system.

Suddenly the cobra reared up again, a terrible gurgling sound escaping its mouth as it tried to hiss—blood spurting down its white underbelly from where its throat had been completely torn away.

The griffin turned quickly to defend itself as the cobra attempted one last strike, but it lost its strength halfway and crashed to the floor gasping for breath as its blood seeped out onto the stone. The griffin stood on shaky legs watching the cobra with hazy vision as the cobra's one good eye began to fade from red to a dull gray. 

The onlookers watched the entire battle in both terror and awe. Finally, it seemed that Harry had won. Voldemort collapsed and did not get up again. The barrier that Voldemort created suddenly faded away. 

The Death Eaters panicked. Their leader had been defeated before their very eyes, and without the promise of the Dark Lord's protection the realization that they were hopelessly outnumbered finally registered in their brains. Deciding to risk their master's possible wrath rather than their certain capture many apparated on the spot, abandoning their fallen leader. 

As Voldemort's spells faded away the crowd rushed away from the Great Hall, all accept the faculty, Ron and Hermione. 

Harry was still in the form of a griffin, barely standing as he watched Voldemort revert back into his natural form, although what was taking place before him no longer seemed to register in his brain.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, being held back by Ron.

Professor McGonagall was upon them in a flash, "_When did Harry become animagus!?!_"

"We don't know!" Hermione answered frantically.

"He never told us! He would have if he'd succeeded at it." Ron continued.

McGonagall's thin brows were contorted with worry, "It's his first transformation…" she whispered under her breath…

"What's wrong? What's happening to him!?!" Hermione shouted at her.

"An animagus's first transformation is dangerous. They can get trapped in the body…lose their mind to whatever animal they become…the larger the animal, the larger the risk…" McGonagall turned and rushed out to Harry, who was still struggling to stay on his feet. 

She halted abruptly when the black griffin turned on her with a snarling screech, the hair and feathers on its back raising up. Its ears were flattened against its head, its wings raised threateningly, and if it had lips they would have been drawn back, teeth bared. She put her hands in the air, trying to calm it. It backed away slightly giving a weak warning screech.

"Perfect Minerva," she uttered to herself, "just go startling wounded animals that happen to be twenty times bigger that you." She took several hesitant steps toward the huge figure. "Harry," she called, "Harry, you've got to get control of yourself. You've got to change back so we can help you." She took another step forward.

The griffin screeched again, its beak ajar in warning, its luminescent green eyes flashing with malice. It tenderly scratched the floor with its injured legs trying to place its weight were there was no pain. It had been bitten at least four times and was losing strength rapidly.

"Harry," McGonagall said, "We're your friends, please…you need help."

"Harry, please!" Hermione shouted from several yards away.

The griffin looked her way. When it saw Hermione and Ron some warmth seemed to enter its eyes. McGonagall came dangerously close.

"Harry…"

The griffin turned its head back to her and let out a weak cackle before falling to its side. McGonagall rushed to the beast's neck, laying her hands on the bloody feathers. It raised its head again making the faint sound, the pupils of its eyes dilating. Its head fell back down.

Harry could feel himself coming back. For a while he had totally given into the overwhelming animal instinct that had made itself known as soon as he had transformed. He felt a strange tightening sensation all over his body. He closed his eyes as it overtook him. He heard people calling his name all around him. He briefly opened his eyes again. He saw a human hand before his eyes…his hand. He had changed back.

His vision was horribly blurred, even though he was still wearing the majority of his glasses. The pain he had suppressed suddenly rose back up in his body, the shooting pain from his arms…his legs…his chest…it was everywhere, but it was soon overshadowed by the stinging in his shoulder, his leg and several other places. It spread though his system vengefully. 

Everything was getting fading around him…the voices quieting…until there was nothing but dark silence.

__

Disclaimers: You know, these really suck.

  1. "My favorite part of the game: sudden death." Line from Disney's Hercules, said by Hades. © Disney animation.
  2. "The coils tightened and shook like mad for nearly a minute until it lay very still. It was over…The snake began to move again. Screaming filled the hall as its upper body began to emerge from the pile of coils…The griffin struggled out of the snake's coils and tumbled onto the cold stone floor." This scene is supposed to represent the end of Tarzan's battle with the jaguar, Sabor in Disney's Tarzan. © Disney animation.
  3. Overall, the giant snake idea came from Disney's Aladdin when Jaffar changed into the giant king cobra. © Disney animation.

There are 3 other references in my list.


	7. Aftermath

The Fall of the Dark Lord __

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. I lay claims to the actual story-line, most of the spells (if there are any in this chapter) and a certain mystical sign of power.

Authors Notes: Boy, I bet most of you thought I was dead, didn't you? Well, chapter 7 wouldn't be up right now, accept that I decided to split it into two chapters, so there is still more to come after this. Again, I apologize for my references. I know I have a few DBZ's in here. 10,000 "Whose Line Is It Anyway" points to anyone who can find them all! Don't forget to Review! ***hugs and kisses*** Talia (6/06/01).

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The Fall of the Dark Lord

Chapter 7: Aftermath

Harry walked confidently through the darkness, his footfalls echoing through the abyss, the same light rippling from each step. He heard the sound of strong beating wings and turned around. A black griffin stood towering over him, its piercing green eyes watching him closely, a red slash coloring the feathers just above its eyes.

The beast gave a short cry as its size shrank and Harry was once again staring at the apparition. Unlike before they had become mirror images of each other, both standing tall and confident, both with a cold look in their eyes due to the knowledge of their power.

"You did well," the apparition said.

"Did I?" Harry asked, still able to taste the blood in his mouth, realizing that he had taken a life.

"Yes. You did what was necessary. You did what destiny had ordained for you to do."

"So is that it? Is that all I was born for?"

"Yes and no. Only you can decide if that was all."

"Stop speaking in riddles."

The apparition gave no comment.

"So, I'll take it that I have released you?"

"Yes. We are one again, as we were always meant to be."

"Then you are Primus."

"I am the part of you that is Primus. We are the same." The apparition held its palm out facing Harry. Harry moved and placed his own palm against the apparition's. "There is no need for us to be separate any longer."

Harry nodded in understanding. 

The apparition's eyes began to glow bright green. The light spread throughout the rest of its body until all that resembled the apparition was the shape of the light. Harry gasped as the tingling sensation bolted from his scar down his spine and the light shot forward, entering into his body on his breath.

The apparition had gone—or rather it had returned—and Harry stood in the darkness alone once more.

Harry could hear voices again. He felt like he'd been lost for an eternity. Unable to do anything else he listened.

"I don't understand it Albus…In all my years here, I have never seen such extensive injuries…multiple fractures in both arms and legs…at least 10 cracked, if not broken ribs…" Harry recognized it as being Madam Pomfrey's voice. "I don't see how he could even stand…let alone…" she paused, "And the poison…after one bite he should have been dead in seconds…Albus, it doesn't make any sense!"

"There are a lot of things about Harry that we still have to learn, Poppy. Especially now that there is no doubt that he is the heir of Primus."

"But what is that Albus? I've never heard of it before. And the way You-Know-Who looked when—"

"Poppy, the man is dead. You should have no fear saying his name."

"But I do. The way he looked when Harry said it, 'the Sign of Primus'…what does it mean?"

"You heard the projection Harry made didn't you? It's a mark of power, an anointing. It simply means that he has been gifted with extraordinary magical power. That is why he was able to defend himself without his wand. There is one born every 1000 years. Merlin bore the sign of Primus, as did Gandalf, and Krista. They all had it, and now Harold Potter will go down in history as having it as well."

They were both silent. Harry could tell they were close. He was most likely in the hospital wing with them sitting or standing near his bed. He heard more voices coming from outside the room.

"Madame Pomfrey! Madame Pomfrey, please, _please_ let us see him!" It was Hermione and Ron. Harry heard as shuffling of clothes and brushing footsteps as Madame Pomfrey went to the door.

"Come in, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. Normally I wouldn't let you in, but I have no idea what is happening to him."

"It's been 24 hours, there hasn't been any change yet!?!" Hermione squeaked.

"Not that I can tell…he's been in a coma ever since he was brought here…I don't know when he'll wake up, or even if he'll wake up…"

Harry heard footsteps approaching him.

"Harry…" Hermione cried, he felt her hands encircle his.

He felt Ron touch his forehead, "God, Harry, you can't leave us this way…" He heard Ron growl and then a hard thud as Ron presumably punched the wall.

"Mr. Weasley!" 

Ron sucked in a breath and hit the wall again, "God damn it! It can't end like this!"

"Ron, stop it!" Hermione shouted, her voice breaking, "beating yourself up isn't going to help anyone!" Her grip on Harry's hand tightened. 

Harry hated this. He wanted to respond to all of them and just couldn't. It was slow torture. Hermione put her head down on the mattress and he could feel her tears fall on the back of his hand. All he wanted to do was wipe her tears away and keep Ron from braking his knuckles on the stone wall.

"Why did this have to happen to him?" Hermione sobbed.

"It isn't fair." Ron said.

"Have you both forgotten that he saved all of our lives? It was his choice." Dumbledore said.

"Why should that make any difference!?!" Ron shouted. "He's risked his life for everyone else ever since our first year, and has anyone ever did the same for him? And now _look at him_. It doesn't matter that he saved all of us because no one can save him!"

This was terrible. Harry didn't want to just lie there listening to this. He had to knock some sense into Ron and Hermione. Dumbledore was perfectly calm. Dumbledore understood. Dumbledore knew Harry was fine. Dumbledore knew Harry was just having trouble waking up. It wasn't a life and death situation anymore!

"I don't want to believe that!" Hermione shouted, "Madame Pomfrey, there must be something that you can do!!"

"I've done everything I can do, Hermione. I don't have anything else I can give him."

"THAT'S BULLSHIT! I'm not going to stay here and listen to you say that there's nothing you can do! There's got to be something you can do!"

"Hermione…"

"Just SHUT UP Ron!" She screamed, "JUST SHUT UP!!"

Harry couldn't stand this anymore. He was going to take control of his body if it killed him. He couldn't stand his friends in such pain on the account of him.

"I can't believe you are being such a bitch, Hermione, don't you think I'm hurting just as bad as you are!" Ron shouted back at her.

"Both of you, calm down," Dumbledore said.

"I will not calm down!" Hermione yelled and started at Ron again.

It took all his strength, but Harry managed to squeeze her hand, stopping her in mid-sentence.

"Harry!?!" She gasped.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice scratchy and barely audible, "How's a guy supposed to get any sleep around here? You guys are giving me a headache."

He half-opened his eyes, seeing her blurred face rushing toward him. He was suddenly caught in a strong hug around his midsection, "YOU'RE OK!!! Oh, thank God you're OK!"

Harry barely kept from screaming was she crushed his bruised ribs, but couldn't keep from smiling at Hermione's embrace. He was able to look up at Ron, who although he spoke as if he was fine, looked as though he was going to cry with relief, "Never do that again. You really put us through the ringer. How are you feeling?"

"Probably about as good as you can after being crushed by a 60 foot snake."

"Harry, how did you do all of that…without your wand…and becoming animagus…"

"I'm not sure…"

"All right, all right!" Madame Pomfrey said happily, "Now that you're awake I can finally find out what I have to do to fix you up! Everyone, out! Out!"

"See ya later man!" Ron said, lightly punching him in the arm, leaving the room quickly so that no one could see his tears.

"Bye Harry," Hermione whispered. Harry brushed a tear away from her eyes and smiled at her. She leaned down as she stood up and kissed him lightly on the lips before scurrying out of the room.

Dumbledore stood up from his chair and put his hand on Harry's shoulder, "We'll talk soon." The headmaster smiled, the old twinkle shinning in his eyes like never before. He turned and left Harry to the school nurse.

Harry looked at Madame Pomfrey, "I'm not going to enjoy this, am I?"

"Probably not," she answered.

Harry was eventually able to get out of the hospital wing after Madame Pomfrey had checked multiple times in disbelief to make sure nothing was left broken or torn, and that he indeed had all ten fingers and toes left. He was able to weasel out the door with her insisting that she check to make sure his ribs were mended correctly for the 28th time. _As if I wouldn't notice if my ribs were still broken!_ he growled to himself as he hurried down the hall.

Harry passed many classmates on his way to Gryffindor Tower. To his amazement no one stopped him to ask how he was. Instead the ocean of students parted as soon as they saw him and let him pass through like Moses parting the Red Sea. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. Seeing their faces as he passed, some seemed to do it out of respect, others out of fear, some out of amazement that he was still alive. 

It was really annoying.

Harry noticed that many students were no longer at Hogwarts, most of them Slytherins. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were the first absences that he took in. He learned later that they had disappeared the night of the banquet, the word was that their families were on the run from the Ministry because their parents had been recognized in the attack as Death Eaters.

As he reached the portrait of the fat lady even his fellow Gryffindors who were returning to the common room avoided him. He stopped mid-password and looked around him, a minimum five foot radius separating him from every other person there. He gave a disgruntled sigh and turned away from the portrait, the flock of Gryffindors jumping out of his way as he retraced his steps.

__

What is wrong with them!?! He growled, _I'm still the same person…why are they acting so scared? They should know that I'd never hurt them!!_ Harry was heading for Dumbledore's office. He wanted to talk to Harry and Harry wanted to talk to him, but more importantly, Harry did _not_ want to be shunned in his own house tower.

Harry stood in front of the gargoyle again, but instead of playing the guessing game, he simply placed his hand on the gargoyle's head and muttered a few Latin words. Soon a word came up in his mind, "Geeze, more Muggle candy. I think he's trying to fry my brain: skittles." The gargoyle hoped out of the way and Harry went into Dumbledore's office to wait.

Harry sat down in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk again. Fawkes, who was sitting on his perch, gave a friendly squawk and flew over to greet him.

"How ya doin' Fawkes?" Harry asked stroking the phoenix's head, "Sorry I lost your feather—couldn't help it though."

Fawkes gave an understanding crackle and rubbed its head against Harry's shoulder in a fashion more like a cat than a bird.

Harry looked about the room. It was disorderly as usual, papers and magical objects scattered all around. How Dumbledore ever managed to keep things strait when his office looked like this was beyond Harry.

Harry touched his scar. "Fawkes, do you know what's happening to me?"

The bird only chirped as the door to Dumbledore's office opened and Dumbledore himself came in.

"Oh," he said, "Harry, I didn't expect you in here." Despite the fact that Harry had broken into his office, Dumbledore was as friendly as ever and sat down behind his desk.

"Are you ready to talk, Professor?"

"Harry, I am always ready to talk."

"What's happening to me?"

"Do you mean to say you still don't know?"

"Yes, and no. Primus. The Sign of Primus. Why did I have to be born with this thing?"

"It's a gift Harry. Never think of it as anything else. It is a gift."

"A gift? I'd say it's more of a curse. Because of this my parents were killed…because of this I have brought danger near everything and everyone I've ever loved…and now because of this everyone is afraid of me…"

"Harry, it is because of that you survived Voldemort. It is because of that you were able to protect what you love despite the danger it brought. It is because of that you were able to defeat Voldemort once and for all. He can never hurt anyone ever again."

"And it's because of this that I've taken a human life…that I've become a killer…"

"You're not a killer Harry. It was in self-defense: kill or be killed. You had no choice. You showed mercy, and Voldemort was simply too proud to accept it."

"You would think that they'd be grateful…"

"Who?"

"Everyone. Instead they're afraid of me…as if I'd ever hurt them."

"Give them time Harry. They've seen what you're capable of doing. After they get used to that, they will go back to normal."

"And what am I supposed to do when I leave here? I'm sure the entire world knows that I defeated Voldemort again…I'm never going to get a moment's peace for the rest of my life…"

"That is true, Harry, especially for the next few months. I've barred all media from the school until after graduation. _The Daily Prophet_ has been trying to beat the doors down to get an interview."

Harry sat forward putting his head in his hands, "God…what am I going to do…"

"Harry, I must ask, just out of curiosity, were you animagus before the banquet?"

"No."

"You'd never tried to become one?"

"No, not at all. I still don't know how I did it. I just…I just kept thinking about what he was going to do to everyone else…I didn't really even think about what would happen to me, accept that if I died, nothing was going to keep him from the others…"

"Harry, you don't know anything about the Sign of Primus, do you, aside from what Voldemort said the night he killed your parents, is that correct?"

"Yes. I don't know anything accept for what he said."

"Well, let me tell you what I know."

Harry looked up again.

"As you already know, in every millennia, a witch or wizard is born destined to be extremely powerful. Each has a specific destiny, and they are distinguished by having the Sign of Primus somewhere on their bodies. For example, Merlin bore the Sign of Primus on his forearm, and he is considered the greatest wizard of all time. His destiny was to aid Arthur Pendragon during his reign as king. Another was a witch named Krista. Little is know about her, accept that she was an extremely powerful seer. She predicted a great deal of our history that has come true, unfortunately her writings have been lost for centuries. But she did bare the Sign of Primus on her back between her shoulder blades."

"Has there ever been an heir of Primus that…became dark?"

"There is very little know about the heirs of Primus. The mark itself is not a well know fact. I could probably count on one hand the number of groups in the world today that are aware of it. You see, the barers go down in history, but the fact that they wore the mark is rarely documented."

"How do you know about it then? How did Voldemort?"

"I've been around. There are ancient clans of people in Scotland and Ireland, the Druids. Their elders have common knowledge of the mark, as well as many other secrets in magic. I learned a great deal while I studied with them, as I believe Voldemort must have as well. When I learned about the power the barer could hold I kept my ear to the news around our society, trying to learn of anyone who might have it, for curiosity…study more than anything else. I trust Voldemort did the same thing, like you had said, to gain their support when they came to power."

"You knew then…what I was when I was born…didn't you?"

"Yes and no. At first I didn't believe it…that the person I had always wanted to meet was born right under my nose…to my own students, James and Lily Potter. I wasn't sure of course. I wouldn't know until you came to power."

"And Voldemort learned that I'd been born with it?"

"Yes. I suspect that Peter Pettigrew told him of your strange birthmark, and that was what first made him come after you I believe. As much as you hate Professor Snape, you should feel very grateful to him."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, "What on Earth for?"

"Severus was in close leagues with Voldemort at that time. He had been a spy for us for a great deal of time by then. He was the one who found out that Voldemort was coming after your family. If it wasn't for him your parents never would have eluded Voldemort as long as they did."

"But they still died…"

"I know, but if they hadn't been warned ahead of time things could have turned out much different…he may have been able to successfully take you from them."

"I would have became a dark wizard then?"

"Most likely."

"There have been others then?"

"Yes. There was one, some 5,000 years ago in India. He was unstoppable, and had that part of the world completely conquered until his death. His name was Kain. He was completely merciless, and because he had the power of Primus, no one could stand up to him."

"That's what their all afraid of then, isn't it? They're afraid that I will become like Kain…like Voldemort…"

"Yes. It was one thing when the way you defeated Voldemort was a mystery. No one felt threatened by you then, but now that they've witnessed the defeat they realize what could happen if they cross you, and therefore they have decided it safer to keep their distance from you."

"They should know better…"

"They can't Harry. Power has the potential to permanently alter a person, especially with the magnitude that you have displayed. I doubt that you realize it, but you became a completely different person when you were fighting him. I must admit, that even_ I _didn't recognize you. You're back to normal now, but everyone else doesn't know that."

Harry held the bridge of his nose, "I hate this…"

There were several moments of silence.

"Harry, tell me…the pain in your scar…what happened to it during the rest of the day?"

Harry looked up again, "It kept getting worse up until Voldemort called the Death Eaters…and then it erupted like normal…like my skull was splitting in two…then, when I started to fight…when I realized that I had to stop him from hurting everyone else…then the pain stopped…it turned into a…I don't even know what…and that was when I remembered everything…it just came back in a great flood…"

"Were you having flashbacks from that night?"

"Yes…I couldn't let it happen again…I couldn't let him do that to anyone else…"

"One of the things I learned, was that trauma was what drove the anointed to come to power: that the power came in response to a need, not a desire; that the pain of loss brought it out the most viciously and unbridled. When you faced him the first time, as a child you could hear your parents pain, and you wanted to stop it. Does that sound right?"

"Yes."

"At one year old, you briefly came to power, but after it was over the power recessed again, simply because you were too young to control it. Now, the power is yours to command at will. You can do just about anything now…even become animagus without any preparation whatsoever. None of us have any idea how far your skills have come. I think you've even become a prophet."

"What makes you think that?"

"Your dreams…they were reminding you of the past…warning you of the future…don't you think so? Did anything that happened in your dreams occur again in the battle?"

Harry thought a moment. "Yes. In the second dream…the one with the other me in it…I became like him during the battle…in the dream when he left and I tried to stop him he turned on me…he took his robes off like I did when Voldemort changed, and then he changed into something…I guess it was the griffin I turned into…Yes you're right."

"Harry, I have to know if you want to attend graduation tomorrow? We've barred the media from it because I know what would happen if they were allowed to enter…but do you _want_ to be present? If you are not comfortable being there after all that's happened there is no need for you to attend."

"I want to attend…even if everyone is afraid of me. I'm head boy after all. What kind of example would I be making if I didn't attend graduation?"

The twinkle raged in Dumbledore's eye, "Give them time, Harry. They will get over the shock eventually."

Harry merely nodded.

The halls were empty for the most part on his way back to Gryffindor tower. No one backed out of his way this time, simply for the fact that they could easily avoid bumping into him, however he still received the frightened looks that he had gotten earlier in the day. 

When Harry reached the portrait of the fat lady he realized he didn't know the password. As he did with the gargoyle he placed his hand on the frame of the painting and muttered the incantations until the word came to his mind. "The truth is out there? Is this some kind of joke?" Apparently it wasn't because the portrait swung open when he said the phrase and he passed through the hole. 

The common room was loud with talk. Harry was only able to catch bits and pieces. He heard "You-Know-Who," "defeated," "gone dark," and "Harry," in several conversations, but everything fell to dead silence when they saw that he had entered the room.

Every pair of eyes were on him, each wide with fear. 

He looked around, but didn't see Hermione or Ron.

"Hello everyone," he said half-heartedly, but no one answered. He waited a few seconds in the awkward silence before rushing off to the boys' dorm room in frustration. There were several underclassmen there. When they saw him come through the door their conversation stopped as well. Harry looked at them for several seconds, and then chose to ignore them, moving toward his bed. He saw them slink out of the room through the corner of his eye. "Idiots," he muttered to himself as he noticed the huge pile of mail stacked on his bed. 

"Geeze, is this all from this morning?" Harry picked up the top letter.

_Dear Harold Potter,_

__

The Daily Prophet would like to request an interview with you discussing the attack on Hogwarts this past Friday, May 30, 1997. A date for the interview will be set at your convenience.

__

Sincerely,

__

Rita Skeeter

__

"I can't believe she has the nerve to request an interview after the way she slandered me during the Triwizard tournament!"

Harry looked though the other letters. There were at least 50 different interview requests from newspapers, magazines, even a couple television shows. "How considerate," Harry muttered, taking all the letters and dropping them into the wastebasket by the door. "It's so nice knowing that no one gives a fig about whether I want to talk about the battle or not." Harry hesitated before dropping the lid back onto the can when he saw one letter that he hadn't opened. He picked it out of the jumbled mess and ripped off the twine that was holding the scroll shut.

_My God, Harry the news is all over the countryside! Are you all right? Oh please, please be all right. The last I heard you were in a coma…please, as soon as you get this letter write me back!! Please God, be alive…_

__

Snuffles.

__

"Sirus…" Harry smiled, "At least you still care."

Harry sat down on his bed, extending his arm toward his trunk. The lid popped open and a quill, a bottle of ink, and a piece of parchment floated over to his hand.

_Snuffles,_

__

I am fine. I just woke up this morning. Everything is weird…I did some pretty crazy stuff. I can't explain in a letter. Voldemort is dead. I killed him…I didn't want to…didn't mean to…but I did. Everyone is afraid of me now. 

__

I am going to get you pardoned. I won't rest until you're free again. Even if I have to track down Wormtail myself to prove your innocence. I have the power to do it now, and I will explain all that I know in broad daylight, in a crowded room with you in plain sight when you are no longer considered a criminal. I swear it.

__

Harry.

__

Harry waited a minute for the ink to dry before rolling the parchment up and tying it with the same twine that Sirus's letter had been tied with. Harry got up to take it to the owlery, but stopped at the door of the dorm. He could hear the conversations raging down in the common room again, but he couldn't hear what was being said. He cracked the door, but still couldn't pick any one conversation out of the numerous ones. He closed the door again, leaning his back against it. He was getting very angry. He wanted to know what they were saying about him. 

His hand shot out toward his trunk. The top bounced open again, and this time his father's invisibility cloak snaked out of it in a long swirling line and raced into his outstretched hand.

Harry slipped out of the dorm room and down the stairs without anyone noticing the door's movement. Harry held the invisibility cloak tightly around him making sure no part of him was sticking out. He stopped behind the couch in the common room where a group of Second and Third years were talking in a hushed whisper.

"I've never been so scared in my entire life! I thought we were all going to die!" A small squeaky voiced blond girl said.

"I can't believe that…that…V…Voldemort…is really dead. We're finally safe," a Second Year boy added, "I've never felt safe to say his name, but I do now."

"He is dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, _The Daily Prophet_ said that there was no doubt this time. He's gone for good. They put a bunch of bindings on the body just to make sure he couldn't come back again," another blond girl added.

"Then we are safe."

"I wouldn't say that," a dark skinned boy said, "I wasn't sure who I was more afraid of, Voldemort, or Harry."

"I've never seen him like that…so cold…"

"My Dad said that Voldemort was a nice boy before he got a taste of real power. After seeing Harry like that…I don't know…"

"Don't say his name, Barry," a stringy brunette scolded. "If he knew we were saying this…who knows what he'd do."

"I heard that he wasn't animagus before then. What kind of person can become animagus at will?"

"There's no telling what You-Know-Who is capable of…"

Harry felt a terrible twang in his chest. He was barely able to keep from sobbing, _They're turning me into Voldemort…_ He backed away from the couch and into the opposite wall. He slid down to the floor, the cloak still successfully covering him. _How can they say such things? How can they make _me_ into someone like_ Voldemort_?_ Harry put his hand to his mouth to try to soften his uneven breathing. He closed his eyes and tried to keep from crying as he listened to the people, who just two days prior were his friends, talk about him as if he was already a dark wizard.

He sat there for several minutes, listening to every slanderous thing they were saying about him. 

He didn't notice that Ron and Hermione finally showed up in the common room.

"Hey, has anyone seen Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up when he heard her voice.

"Shhh! Don't say His name!"

"Why not?" Ron asked.

"He's dangerous! We don't want to give You-Know-Who reason to want to hurt us."

"Did you…did you just call _Harry_ _YOU-KNOW-WHO!?!_" Hermione shouted.

"What the hell is wrong with you people!?! Why on earth would Harry hurt any of you?" Ron yelled.

"You never know. After what _He_ did, who knows what _He's_ capable of?"

"After what he did? What? Defeat Voldemort? SAVE ALL OF OUR LIVES? Some friends you are! Real nice display of gratitude! If you want to really piss him off, keep calling him You-Know-Who! Treating him like Voldemort…" Hermione shook with rage, "You all deserve to be hurt! But you all should know damn good and well he would never hurt any of us! I have never seen such a group of fickle, small-minded…" Hermione couldn't finish. She turned on her heel and stomped out of the room.

Harry got back up. 

"You people make me sick!" Ron said. "Turning on Harry like this…you didn't deserve to be saved!" Ron turned and left too.

Harry smiled to himself. _At least they still trust me._ He moved and followed Ron out the portrait hole, unseen by the rest of the room.

Harry could hear Hermione sobbing down the hall. Ron had gone off in the opposite direction at a fast pace. Harry decided to go after Hermione since she seemed to be more upset. He hurried after the sobbing, still absent-mindedly holding the invisibility cloak around him.

Hermione slowed her pace and then stopped, covering her face with her hands, "How could they say those things?" She sobbed, "I've never known such horrible people!" 

Harry put a still invisible hand on her shoulder.

She whirled around to see who it was. Seeing no one she swung her fist out, barely missing Harry's face, "PEEVES! Get away! Leave me alone!"

Harry caught her wrist as her hand came at him again, "Whoa! It's me, it's not Peeves!"

Hermione gasped, "Harry!?!" 

Harry let go of her hand and let the top of the cloak fall around his shoulders so that his head was floating in mid-air.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione cried, "I've been looking for you for an hour!" She threw her arms around the invisible chest. Harry's arms became visible as he put them around her in return.

"I was talking with Dumbledore." Harry paused as she sobbed into his chest. "Thank you for defending me."

"What do you mean?" she asked looking up at him.

"I was in the common room just now."

"Then you heard everything they were saying, didn't you."

"Yeah."

"I don't know how they can say such things…after all you did for them…you could have been killed! And do they care that you did it for them? Not at all!" She pressed her face into his chest again, her grip around him tightening. "None of them deserve what you did for them!"

"They're just afraid right now. Like Dumbledore just told me, they just need time to accept everything that happened." Harry gently moved his hands up and down her back trying to calm her.

"I don't care if they need time! I saw the exact same things they did, and I understand! I understand that you did all of that for us. That you were only thinking of us the entire time! I can't forgive them for…for calling you _You-Know-Who!_ For treating you as if you were Voldemort!"

"Voldemort? You said his name! I'm impressed!"

"We don't have to be afraid anymore thanks to you, Harry. He's dead. It's been confirmed, and the Ministry of Magic is making sure that he stays that way."

Harry moved one hand to touch her soft hair, which was pinned back in its usual barrette again, while his other arm pulled her closer. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head while he stoked her hair.

"I've never felt safer than I do now," she whispered to him. He felt her arms move from around his torso up around his neck where she continued to hold him for several seconds before looking up into his eyes. Harry felt himself melting into those same sparkling eyes, the same shining luster that was always there when she was angry, but in this case tinged with tears.

The longing in each of them was apparent, her fingers crept into his hair as he bent forward. Their lips met again but this time neither pulled away. Each pulled the other closer into the embrace, Hermione standing on her tip-toes, Harry pulling his arms around her tight enough to grip one of her shoulders. After several seconds Harry reached for the clasp of his cloak, pulling it loose and then enveloping both he and Hermione in it so that no passer-by would see them.

__

Disclaimers:

  1. "Merlin bore the Sign of Primus, as did Gandalf, and Krista." Gandalf is the wizard in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. © J.R.R. Tolkien.

  2. "A gift? I'd say it's more of a curse." I've heard this somewhere, or something like it, but for the life of me, I don't know where.

  3. "The power came in response to a need, not a desire; that the pain of loss brought it out the most viciously and unbridled." Adaptation to lines said by Goku from Dragon Ball Z. "The power comes in response to a need, not a desire…Use the pain of loss." © Akira Toriama and Funimation.

  4. "The truth is out there." Theme to The X-Files. © Chris Carter (at least I think that's his name.)


	8. Graduation

The next morning all the seventh years were called down to the great hall which had been repaired perfectly so that there was no sign of the fight what-so-ever, which Harry was very grateful for __

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all of the characters, I own the actual story, most of the spells, and a certain mystic sign of power

Auther's Notes: OK, I've lied yet again, this is not the last chapter. I think there's going to be 2 more, I still haven't decided yet. In any case, please read and review, and forgive me for my references to other stuff. 10,000 "Whose Line is it Anyway" points to anyone who can find them all (you know, I'm still not getting any takers for this!). Later, Talia (06/14/01)

****

The Fall of the Dark Lord

Chapter 8: Graduation

The next morning all the seventh years were called down to the great hall, which had been repaired perfectly so that there was no sign of the fight what-so-ever—which Harry was very grateful for. He never wanted to think of that night again. They went through a run through of how graduation would go that night. The tables were moved back again like they were for the banquet and hundreds of chairs were set up for family and friends who decided to attend. They were lined up in alphabetical order and were marched in on each side of the faculty table and went through some complicated choreographics to get to their seats. Harry noticed immediately that the two girls on either side of him gave him plenty of room, smashing up next to the people on their other sides. If fact everyone around him did the same thing so that their was at least a three foot radius around him again. Harry gave an exasperated sigh and chose to ignore them. McGonagall explained when they were going to sit, stand walk and so on, particularly stressing that when they received their diplomas and honors medal (if they were honors students), that they were to maintain eye contact and give the person a nice firm handshake. 

They went through the entire thing four times, having everyone mix up, find their places and march in making sure to leave at least four feet between them and the person in front of them. Harry noted that the people on either side of him had no trouble doing this. 

"This is probably one of the classiest affairs any of you will go through, save for weddings, so you will be acting classy. You are required to wear dress clothes under your robes. There will be no gum chewing, no slouching, no hollering, no cat-calls, no whooping, etc. Are we all clear?" McGonagall raised a warning eyebrow as no one made a sound. "Good," she said, "If you would all march out again, you can be dismissed. Graduation is at 7:00 tonight. Please be here in the Great Hall promptly at 5:45. The doors will open for your family at 6:00."

As they were walking out McGonagall caught Harry by the arm and pulled him out of the line.

"Harry, if you would please come with me to my room."

Harry left the line quickly, _Great, now what?_

McGonagall closed the door behind her. Harry sat down in one of the chairs in front of McGonagall, who crossed her arms and leaned on her desk. Harry noticed that her fine brows were contorted into a bit of worry. "Harry, how are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged, "OK I guess, besides the fact that everyone's afraid of me."

"Harry, on Friday, was that the first time that you ever became a griffin?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever changed into anything else?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Never."

"If you tried, do you think you could change into that griffin again?"

Harry nodded.

"Do it then, please."

Harry nodded again, getting up from the seat. He waved his hand about the room and the desks pushed themselves back out of the way. McGonagall seemed a bit disturbed at the show of magic without a wand, but she calmed herself. 

Harry moved to the center of the room, checking on all sides of him to make sure that he had enough room. "OK, here goes," he said. He closed his eyes and concentrated, picturing himself as the black griffin. He felt his body begin to stretch, and be went down on all fours in an automatic reaction. He could suddenly feel the wings on his back and gave them a quick stretch as the rest of his new body adjusted itself. 

He opened his eyes, his vision changed to the sharper vision he had experienced the first time he transfigured. McGonagall seemed startled again, but tried to hide it. Harry's eyes found a mirror that was hanging in the room. In it he saw for the first time what the griffin looked like. He was completely black, probably because of his hair, accept that the lion's half was slightly brown. His eyes seemed to be inverted. The corneas were black instead of white, and his irises and pupils were slits like a cat's, the color a florescent green, almost glowing. There was a dark shadow under his feathered brows that seemed to resemble the lower half of his glasses, which continued back to his long wolf's ears, which were also a darker black than the rest of his feathers. Harry's eyes were then drawn to the slash of lighter feathers just above and between his eyes marking his scar.

"Harry, can you still hear me?"

Harry turned back to her and gave his head a brief nod. 

"OK, then I want you to turn back again."

Harry bowed his head again, closing his eyes. A soft crackle issued from his jaws as he forced his form to shrink back down to his original body.

"Amazing," she said, turning to sit at her desk. She quickly scribbled some writing down on a parchment, "Harry, I'm registering you as an animagus. I have some forms here that you need to fill out. Right now I'm writing down your description, although you're not exactly going to be hard to miss. Animagus can rarely become magical creatures! And black griffins are very rare." Harry moved the desks in the room back to where they were. "Harry, do know just how difficult that transformation is?"

"No professor."

She put her quill down, "Harry, when I saw Voldemort change into the cobra I was horrified. The hardest creatures to transfigure into are always the largest, or the smallest. The ability to control your body enough to stretch or squeeze the masses into those forms is prodigious. That's why most animagus choose animals like cats and dogs, the form is close enough to our natural state that it isn't hard, same with animals like a stage or a bear. 

"When Voldemort changed into a 60 foot snake I was terrified because I knew how powerful he'd become. Not only was it huge, but it was also a magical creature…exactly what, I'm not sure. As far as I know there have only been a handful of witches and wizards in recorded history that have had the power to change into magical creatures, especially such _large_ magical creatures. And then you turned into a griffin! I couldn't believe my eyes, and then to find out that you'd never tried to become animagus before…Harry, I don't think you realize just how special you are! You were even able to pull out of the snare of the griffin's mind. Whenever a novice animagus changes there is always a chance that their mind will change to that of the animal they've become. The risk is proportional to the difficulty of maintaining a transformation, therefore very large animals, very small animals, and especially magical creatures are the hardest to control. I could see that it was happening to you, the way you nearly attacked me…but you were able to pull out of it! 

She picked up her quill again and continued writing, "After I have you registered you are going to have to transfigure for short periods of time each day. You have to stay in the griffin's form until you feel your mind starting to waver and then change back. You have to keep doing this everyday until it no longer happens."

Harry walked forward and was handed a five-inch stack of papers, "Oh my God…" Harry muttered as the heavy stack fell into his hands.

"You can go now Harry. Please try to have those filled out by tonight if you can. I want to register you myself so that there aren't any mess-ups. When I first registered they put me down as a catfish instead of a cat, and then somehow managed to put me down as a purple flamingo. And Harry," she stopped him as he was opening the door. He looked back at her, "If you discover that you can transform into anything else please contact me and I'll write them up like I'm doing now. Having an unregistered form is a highly punishable crime. If you do have any other forms, you don't want to be caught in them without a license."

"Yes Professor," Harry started to go again.

"Harry," she stopped him again.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," she said without looking up from her papers.

Harry smiled in understanding, "You're welcome."

Harry thumbed through the papers on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He was extremely happy to see that there wasn't that much for him to actually fill out. The bulk of the paperwork was just the lists of animals. He was supposed to check the ones he could turn into. He was rather surprised to see that sea anemone was on the list. _Who would want to turn into something that couldn't move?_

He noticed that there was a request for an onlooker to record your appearance in the different forms, which was apparently what Professor McGonagall was doing. 

As he turned the corner he ran strait into a short First Year girl and his stack of papers fell out of his hands and went scattering all over the hall and the girl dropped her own books and fell backwards.

"Crap," Harry muttered and looked at the girl, "Are you OK?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I should have watched where I was going," she got up on her knees and gathered her books back up, "I'm sorry about all your—" she started to say until she looked up to see exactly who she'd run into. "Oh my God! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!" She clasped her hands in front of her as if she was bowing to him.

"No, it's fine. It was just an accident," he reached down to help her up.

"NO!" she screamed, jumping to her feet and running down the hall in the opposite direction, leaving her forgotten books at Harry's feet.

Harry watched in disbelief, his hand still outstretched to help her. He sighed bitterly and let his fall. He waved his hand over the papers, which gathered themselves together and then floated into his hands. He took up her books as well. He would turn them in to Professor McGonagall back in the tower.

When he went through the portrait hole he was met with the same awkward silence. He just ignored it. He saw Ron and Hermione involved in another game of chess, so he sat down next to them. 

"What are those?" she asked, all to happy to ignore the fact that she was being beaten unmercifully yet again.

"They're all the forms I have to fill out to register as an animagus."

"All—of—those !?!" Ron gasped.

"It's not that bad," Harry said. "Mostly it's just a list of all the animals. I'm supposed to check what I can turn into. I'm still looking for 'griffin.' I guess they must put mythological stuff last because there is rarely anyone who can ever change into them."

"Harry, how did you do that?"

"What?"

"_What?_ You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!" Ron growled, "How did you become animagus? You never told us that you were trying to become one!"

"That's because I wasn't. That was the first time I ever tried to at all."

"You're kidding!"

"Not at all."

"Harry, you've got to explain this to us!"

"OK," Harry glanced around the common room, where every pair of eyes was on him, "but not here. Do you think Hagrid would appreciate a visit?"

"Oh yes! I bet he's worried sick!" Hermione chirped.

"Then let's go out there."

The three got up, leaving the chess board forgotten, and went out to Hagrid's hut.

"HARRY!!" Hagrid bellowed, lifting him five feet off the ground into a crushing bear hug, "I've been so worried about ya! Di'n' know if I'd ever see ya again!"

"Ha—Hag—rid! Put—put me—down be—fore you—break my ribs a—gain—" Harry gasped as his arms and torso were being squeezed by the vice that was Hagrid's arms.

"Sorry there Harry!" Hagrid said, putting him down and clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder, "I never though' I'd see you again!" As Harry's feet met the ground again Fang, who had been leaping about and bellowing the entire time weaseled passed Hagrid and jumped up on Harry, who was barely able to support the huge dog's weight on his shoulders, even though only Fangs front paws were resting on him. "There, there, Fang, gedown!" Hagrid pulled on the spiked collar and Fang backed off. "Come in! Come in!" Hagrid said rather loudly. 

Harry, Hermione, and Ron followed Hagrid and Fang into the hut. The minute they were inside Harry noticed a giant black dog lying on Hagrid's bed.

"Siru—Snuffles!" Harry cried in surprise. The black dog bounded off the bed and tackled Harry, sniffing him up and down to check to see that he was all in order.

"So tha's 'is name!" Hagrid said, "He showed up here some time this mornin'. One o' the finest dogs I ever did see!" Fang gave a hurt growl, "'Cept for ol' Fang here," he patted Fang on the head. "So where d'ya know this—er—Snuffles from?"

Harry hugged the dog tightly around the neck, "He's a stray from Hogsmeade I think. We've seen him every so often when we've gone."

"Oh! Well, in that case, maybe he'd let me keep 'im!" Hagrid said.

"Nah, I don't think he's the kind of dog that likes to be kept as a pet."

"Well, wha'ever 'e wants. So what brings ya out 'ere? I was ge'in worried because no'ne was comin' ter see me. Harry, I heard what happened. You've got ter tell me."

"That's what we're all here for. I have to tell Ron and Hermione too. Dumbledore already knows, in fact, he's the one who helped me to understand."

And from there Harry proceeded with the complicated story, starting with the dreams of his parents' murder. He was rather disappointed that Sirus was going to hear the story before he was free like Harry had promised, but it was also nice to know that he could tell the story to everyone all at once.

He was talking for nearly an hour, covering each detail of the dreams thoroughly, and his thoughts during his fight with Voldemort, and the sensations he'd felt in his scar, and most importantly everything he knew about the Sign of Primus.

Harry had never seen any of them be so quiet, and also noted that ol' Snuffles dropped his jaw in disbelief as Harry described the animagus part of the story. He finally finished with Professor McGonagall's speech about the animagus, and for extra emphasis plopped the five-inch stack of papers down in front of him.

When he looked up from the stack he was rather surprised by the blank look on everyone's face, including Snuffles, which was a rather weird look to see on a dog. There were several moments of awkward silence.

"Oh please tell me you're not all afraid of me now, are you? I'm still the same guy!"

"Just shocked, Harry," Ron answered.

"Just give us a few seconds to process this," Hermione said.

Hagrid shook his head, his eyes lighting up as he clapped Harry on the shoulder again, "I always knew ya were special, Harry! When I pulled yer out o' the rubble, I knew it!"

It took another half-hour of casual talking until they were all comfortable again. Hermione had begun to inspect the legal mumbo-jumbo Harry had to fill out, and then went on to the lists of animals. Ron looked over her shoulder. "Hey Harry," have you tried to…you know…change into anything else?"

Harry looked up from the 8th page of legalities, writing down the names of the Dursleys for what he could have sworn was the 10th time, "No, not really. Didn't think of trying it."

"Well, why don't you?" Hermione added, "You're the heir of Primus after all. I bet you could do all of these if you can turn into a griffin."

"Yeah," Ron said, "Turn into a cat."

Harry stared annoyingly at Ron, "You're kidding me right?"

"No! Try it!"

"Come on, Harry ol' boy," Hagrid said, "I've alwa's wan'ed ter see a animagus transferm."

Harry sat his quill down, putting his hands on his knees, "OK."

The black dog gave a snort as if to say, "Don't."

Harry smiled at the dog, "Don't worry Snuffles, I'll be careful."

The dog gave a short growl in protest, but knew it was pointless.

Harry concentrated, closing his eyes. He pictured himself becoming a cat, the same way he had pictured himself becoming the griffin. He felt his skin prickling and his body shrinking and squeezing together, the reverse of what he felt when he became the griffin. He heard everyone gasp and when he opened his eyes he realized he had indeed succeeded. He first saw all of their gaping looks, including Snuffles. The wide-eyes, slack-jawed look was just so _weird_ appearing on a dog.

"Better mark down cat, Hermione," Ron said wide-eyed.

Harry looked at as much of himself as he could see. He was pitch black, betting that he had some strange marking around his eyes where his glasses sat, and a lightening shaped marking on his forehead. He looked at his audience and purred, flicking his tail.

"OK, let's start at the beginning!" Hermione said, flipping to the beginning of the list, "Aardvark."

Harry shook his head. 

"OK, addax."

Harry gawked his head to one side, _What the heck's an addax?_

"Adder."

Harry gave a disgusted hiss. To think he would ever transfigure into a snake.

"Albatross."

OK, he knew what an albatross looked like. It was like a really big sea gull. He pictured it in his head, concentrated, and soon he was standing on his chair with long black wings and webbed feet. He gave a dominant honk, stretching out his wings. He made Hermione laugh as he clumsily tried to fold the twelve-foot span back against his body.

"Alligator," Ron said. Harry hopped down onto the floor, sure that his chair would never support that weight. Soon a seven foot reptile was basking on Hagrid's floor.

"Oh, I don't like that one!" Hermione squealed, "Change to something else!"

Harry thought for a few seconds before the seven foot alligator shrank out of site and was replaced by a small black swallow-tailed butterfly. He fluttered up to her and landed on her hand, flashing his wings, which carried white lightning bolts on the lower wings.

The game continued for a couple of hours. They named off almost all the animals on the list, skipping over the specifics, Golden Retriever, Scottish Terrier, and also the animals Harry didn't know, or simply refused to try, especially snakes.

Finally they came to a simple conclusion, "Just mark everything down. We know good and well that Harry can change into any of them if he knows what they look like!"

Harry changed back to himself after becoming a zebra, totally out of breath after all the changes. "McGonagall isn't going to be very happy about this, is she?"

"If she's the one who has to write down all the descriptions, I seriously doubt it." Hermione said.

"Well, she could always just put down, 'any black animal with a lightening bolt on its head.' You were almost always black, and no matter what, always had the scar."

Harry shrugged. He quickly finished the last few pages of the legalities, "What time is it?"

Ron checked his watch, "It's 4:30."

"I guess we'd better get a move on. We need to get ready, and I have to give these to the Professor," he said gathering all the papers together. "I bet she'll clobber me when she sees all of these marked."

"Well, it was good talkin' ter ya guys!" Hagrid laughed, "Tha' was a mighty impressive show ya put on ther' Harry! Yer mum an' dad would've been proud!"

Harry stood up, "What do ya say, Snuffles, want to walk up to the castle with us?"

The black dog leapt to its feet wagging its tail.

"I'll see all three of ya at graduation tanight," Hagrid said. "I'll probubly be blubberin' like a baby," he said, already pulling his giant handkerchief from his overcoat to dab at his eyes, "Ter think, it's been seven years already!"

They all gave Hagrid a big group hug and chimed together, "It'll be all right Hagrid," before leaving, Snuffles trailing closely behind.

"Snuffles! Snuffles! Snuffles!" Sirus growled from the bush he was hiding in, "I hate that name! Whose bright idea was it to give me that name anyway!?!"

"Uh…yours, Sirus…"

"Oh…yeah." He scratched his head through his matted hair, one of the downsides to spending most of your time as a dog. "That was an incredible story, Harry. I never knew. I don't think your parents knew either."

"I don't think so."

"Listen, I'm going to sneak into graduation tonight. I'm not sure how, but I wouldn't miss it for the world. Doors open at six, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there. You three better get back inside before someone notices that you're talking to a bush."

"Thanks for coming Sirus."

"Hey, I'm your godfather after all. I'm required to do these things," he smiled through the leaves of the bush.

"See you later," Harry said.

"It was nice seeing you," Hermione smiled.

"See ya, Sirus," Ron chimed.

"Bye."

"_WHAT!!!!!!_"

"Uh…yeah. I…uh…tried them when I was filling out the papers." Harry looked down at his feet, a red tinge crossing his nose as McGonagall yelled at him.

"We were there," Ron added in, "He changed into every one that he knew."

"Accept snakes," Harry muttered.

McGonagall fell exasperated into her chair, pieces of her hair falling out of her tight bun. "I am _not_ going to write descriptions for all of those!" She snarled. "It took me an hour to fill out the forms for the griffin alone!"

"Professor?"

"What Miss Granger?" she snapped through her hands that she had covered her face with.

"Are there any short-cuts you could take?"

"I don't know. Like what?"

"Well, each animal Harry changed to was either black, or really dark…and each one had the lightning bolt on its forehead, or somewhere close to it. Could you put something like that down?"

"No. I'll pull a few strings and set up an interview with Animagus registrations: let them take it all down in short hand! Would that be OK with you Harry?"

"Uh…yeah…I guess so. They won't like…dissect me or anything will they?"

McGonagall was silent for a few seconds as if actually considering the possibility, "I doubt it." She took Harry's five-inch stack of papers and sat them on the pile she filled out. She glanced through the lists briefly.

"You can transfigure into a sea anemone!?! Why on earth would you want to transfigure into something that can't move!?!" She snapped as they were leaving the room.

"It was there?" Harry tried as an explanation.

"Get out of here!" She barked and they briskly shut the door.

The three rushed back to Gryffindor tower (mostly because Hermione pushed them along, "What am I going to do with my hair!?!). As before Harry had an easy time getting ready. Since he knew messing with his hair was hopeless he simply changed clothes and was done. This made him very happy since he could just lay down on his bed and shut the drapes. This way no one bothered him and he didn't bother anyone else.

Ron spent some twenty minutes working with his hair, making sure that it was slicked back perfectly. Harry had actually dozed off by the time Ron was ready. 

Ron ripped the drapes back from Harry's bed, nearly scaring him out of his skin.

"Ahhhh!"

"Come on! We're going to be late!"

"Never do that again!" Harry shouted, clutching his chest, afraid that his heart would pop out if he let go. The other students in the dorm gasped and stopped dead when they heard him yell, "And the rest of you relax for God's sake! I'm not going to hurt any of you!" He sat up over the edge of the bed, ignoring whatever else they were doing, "How much time do we have?"

Ron checked his watch, "Five minutes."

"_Five minutes!?!_"

Ron and Harry bolted out of the dorm, noticing that they were the only Seventh Years left in Gryffindor tower accept for "Hermione!"

"Where the hell have you been!"

"Ron had to fix his hair!" Harry blurted out, grabbing her arm as they ran passed her, "How much time do we have Ron?"

"Four minutes. Harry had to take a nap."

"I was waiting for you to finish greasing your head!"

They turned down a spiral staircase. 

"Crap, did we need our hats?" Harry asked.

"Too late now," Ron said.

"No," Hermione answered, "Graduates don't wear them."

"Thank God! I hate those things!"

They spilled into the Great Hall completely out of breath.

"How…much…time…"

"Ten…seconds…"

"We're…good…"

"Harry…couldn't you have…apparated or…something?"

"…"

After their ten seconds of lead-time was up Professor McGonagall began barking out orders. She moved about rather jittery, and resembled a moth in her movements due to the white robes that the entire faculty was wearing. She went through the entire speech about what they could and could not do, and then went through all the students making sure that they were dressed properly. "Neville, tie your shoe. Gloria, straiten your robes please. Catherine—is that a _tongue ring!?!_ Get that out right now!!!" As she passed by Harry she started to speak, "Harry, could you try to…" she put her hand on his head and tried to calm down his hair, "never mind." She moved on realizing the futility of the situation.

"White robes…" Ron muttered, "Just can't picture it."

"If you think McGonagall's weird, look at that!" Hermione whispered, pointing at Snape, "Now that's just plain creepy!"

She was completely right. Even though Snape was wearing white instead of black for some reason the color made him seem more sadistic than ever.

"White is _not_ a good color on him!" Harry exclaimed. Snape looked like a zombie with his already pale skin set against white cloth and then off-set by black hair. Harry gave an unintentional shudder.

"Hey, Harry?" Harry turned to see Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.

"Listen, Harry," Seamus said, "we wanted to say that we're sorry, for the way we've treated you for the last couple of days." Both of them avoided looking Harry in the eyes.

"It's just that," Dean began, "well, we didn't really know what to think, you know?" He scratched the back of his head, "Well, anyway, we're sorry, and we wanted to thank you…for…well, for defending us I guess…"

Harry's eyes lit up and he grabbed both of them in a choke-hold hug, "You two have no idea how badly I needed to hear that from someone!" Harry noticed that they stiffened at his touch, but then relaxed after a couple of seconds realizing that he wasn't attacking them. When he let them go after a few seconds they mumbled another thank you and scurried off again.

Harry smiled, "At least some people are working through this." Even so, his eyes moved across the rest of the room, where everyone else was still uncomfortable and jittery with his presence.

As soon as the head count was taken all of the Seventh Years were flocked into the corridors on either side of the Great Hall so that the audience could be let in. Half of them went with Professor McGonagall, and the other half with Professor Snape. Harry and Ron considered themselves very lucky to have been with the group following McGonagall, unfortunately, Hermione wound up in Snape's group.

Once they were clear of the Great Hall McGonagall went through all of the rules for the tenth time, apparently convinced that they weren't able to grasp the concept in the first nine rounds. Of course, considering that she was standing next to Neville, who, after seven years at Hogwarts, still couldn't tie his shoes correctly, it was completely understandable.

They were ordered to get in the order that had been drilled into their heads that morning, and Harry reluctantly left Ron to walk the gauntlet. As had become the norm, every Seventh year parted ways to let him through. Harry noticed that his eye had developed the habit of twitching every time they did this. _I don't know what's worse_, he thought,_ when people I don't know come up and nearly attack me because I'm "_the_ Harry Potter,"_ _or when people I do know deliberately avoid me because I'm "_the_ Harry Potter!"_ Harry stood in his spot getting even more depressed as his force field automatically erected itself and, again, there was a three foot radius around him, while everyone else was elbow to elbow.

It was a very boring wait for Harry. Forty-five minutes before the processional standing there, separated from everyone else, who finally became comfortable enough to talk to each other, although not to him. He didn't know how much longer he could take this. If this was the way his life was going to be from now on he was seriously doubting whether he wanted to go on or not. _Save the world and get shunned for it, yep, that's a great life_.

Finally, after Harry didn't think that he could sink any lower Elgar's "Pomp and Circumstance" began and McGonagall gave a harsh "Shush" to quiet them and had the procession start. "Remember, at least four feet between each person!" She kept hissing as they passed her onto the floor. When it was Harry's turn to go out he was determined to keep his head down so that no one would recognize him. The last thing he wanted was for all the sound in the Great Hall, save for the brass choir, to stop on the account of him.

He couldn't help looking up, however as he passed into the hall. It was an ocean of people! If he hadn't remembered that they were on the _inside_ of the castle he would have thought that it was the audience of a Quidditch game! There were seats floating along the walls of the Great Hall, reaching all the way up to the ceiling, and every single one was filled. _Oy, I'd hate to fall out of one of those!_ Harry thought, suddenly remembering to duck his head. So far no one had reacted to him. That made him very happy. He wished that he could just melt into the floor so that they wouldn't have to recognize him at all that night. He was definitely reconsidering his choice to attend graduation.

They were half-way through the lines they were supposed to follow to their seats. Neville had somehow managed to get into the wrong line entirely and instead of being with the "L's" was way behind with the "S's" and "T's." _Oh, McGonagall's going to kill him…_Harry thought as he glanced out the corner of his eye.

As they were walking different sections of the crowd would yell out to the graduates they were looking for. There seemed to be a little "groupie" section for each student—accept him. He suddenly found himself thinking bitterly about his scar. If it wasn't for it, he would have his parents there, maybe even some siblings. Sirus would be able to sit in the seats, instead of where ever he was hiding. Harry hadn't been able to pick him out yet. Maybe Sirus would have had a family too. They would all be sitting out there, maybe Professor Lupin too. He would have his own little "Harry Potter" section! 

It was during these sad thoughts that he heard what must have been his imagination. He thought he heard people calling his name. He ignored it at first. Who on earth would be calling to him? Then he heard it again, so he looked up, and there were the Weasleys! Every single red-headed one of them. There was Molly Weasley, Ginny right beside her, Fred and George—who were actually smiling again—even Bill and Charlie. Harry was sure he even saw a couple of grandpa and grandma Weasleys, although he couldn't be sure because their hair had turned white. Each was waving at him, and so he finally nodded in their direction, giving a wide smile. He would have waved back, but he didn't want to risk McGonagall's wrath. As soon as they knew he'd found them they started calling for Ron, who was just then walking into the Great Hall.

Harry ducked his head again. He was starting to feel better knowing that the Weasleys' opinion of him hadn't changed at all. However, the quickest way to plunge him down in the mopes again would be if at the sight of his scar the entire crowd suddenly became silent, or even worse started to evacuate the room. With the way his people skills had been working lately, that is exactly what would happen.

They remained standing until all of the graduates were at their seat and McGonagall and Snape were standing in front of them. When "Pomp and Circumstance" was finished they were given the signal to sit. Harry was rather happy when he realized that everyone around him wasn't squirming away. Apparently McGonagall or Snape had threatened them with gruesome deaths if they messed up the balance in their chairs. In any case, Harry was happy that his force field had been breached.

Now that he was in the middle of almost 150 other people he wasn't worried about being picked out by the audience and glanced around for Sirus, of course, picking out a dog in a crowd of people like this was like picking out a needle in a haystack. He gave up the search when Professor Dumbledore began to speak. Like everyone else, he was wearing white robes, but, apparently because he was Headmaster, his robes had purple trimmings around the neck, sleeves and hem. He stood behind a podium on a stage that had been erected where the faculty table normally sat.

"Good evening everyone. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, as I am sure many of you know. I am the Headmaster here at Hogwarts and I am proud to welcome you to this splendid occasion. It is not very often that I have both the pleasure and the pain of releasing a class as gifted as the class of 1997 into the world. I am very pleased to have you all here tonight.

"This class is truly special in all areas. These students have excelled far beyond any class Hogwarts has seen for many years, both in academics and in all around personality. I am pleased to say that the class on a whole scored 2% higher on the O.W.L.s. than last year's class, who achieved record scores. I must also point out the one student at Hogwarts who had a perfect score on this test in her fifth year here, Miss Hermione Granger.

"There are many elements that go into producing such fine students. At this point, I would ask that our faculty please rise." All of the professors stood up. They were seated in the first two rows of chairs before the audience. "These men and women have taught these students for seven years, and their effectiveness as teachers speak for themselves. I would now also ask that any members of our audience who have ever taught please stand—accept for those of you in the air of course, you may just wave if you would like to." 

There weren't that many people standing, or waving as the case might be, besides the Hogwarts faculty, but Harry scanned the crowd and was very happy to pick out Professor Lupin waving at one of the very topmost rows of the floating chairs. There was applause for all of them. 

"Perhaps the only influence stronger than that of teachers is the influence of parents," as Dumbledore began speaking again the faculty, and anyone else standing, sat down. "You try to craft your children to be good kind people from the time they are born to the time they leave as adults. You are truly the people who deserve the most recognition here tonight, save for our graduates. Would all the parents here please stand—or wave—to be recognized. The entire audience suddenly rose or began to sway. The students all applauded for their parents, but Harry couldn't help but feel a little empty at this point. What kind of parenting had he had? The Dursleys. What a joke. How did he manage to turn out well with models like that? He decidedly applauded for the Weasleys instead.

"Thank you every one. If you would please take your seats again. At this point we would normally have our Head Boy and Girl speeches. Our Head Girl will be speaking, however, due to medical problems our Head Boy has not been able to prepare a speech, and therefore will not be speaking. I would now like to invite our Head Girl, and Valedictorian, Miss Hermione Granger to the podium."

Hermione jumped up from her seat and made her way to the platform. She pointed her wand at her throat before she spoke. "Good evening every one. She pulled a pile of papers from behind the podium, "My original speech was entitled 'Expectations,' however, due to recent events, I have written another speech entitled, 'It Is Time To Change.'" She took a deep breath before she began to speak again. "A lot has happened in the last few days. We have, for the second time, been liberated from the clutches of the Dark Lord," a hushed stillness came over the hall when they realized what she was talking about, "and we have once again been saved by Harry Potter."

__

What is she doing!?! Harry screamed inside his head as he felt a bright tinge of red cross his face.

"Most of the students here at Hogwarts were present for the attack, and I am sure that many have been scarred for life due to the things we saw. The fear of Voldemort," a shudder ran though the crowd at the name, "has always been so colossal that none of us will ever forget it, and therefore the attack will be etched in our minds forever.

"The most important thing, however, is the fact that we all survived thanks to one person, who, time and time again, put his life on the line to help others, never thinking of his own welfare. I am, of course, speaking of Harry Potter. He is the reason I have changed my speech at the last moment. You can ask any of the faculty; the speech I am giving now is unauthorized. I am not speaking of him because it is a popular topic, that it is the latest gossip, or for any trivial reason like that. I am speaking of Harry for one reason, and one reason alone. He is my friend, and it tears me up inside to see him in pain of any sort.

"We feared Voldemort, for the simple reason that he seemed unstoppable. For the longest time, our own Professor Dumbledore was the only person who was a match for him. In these passed three years, after Voldemort's return, and his rise in power our fear multiplied. We thought he had become unstoppable. We thought that he had no equal in the world. We thought that no one could ever achieve that much power. And then Harry faced him in the attack. I myself tried to stop him from going…" Hermione had to stop for a few seconds. "I thought for sure that he was dead, as I'm sure everyone else did as well…and then he proved to us all that he had grown thousands of times more powerful than Voldemort had ever dreamed of becoming. Upon speaking to Harry, he himself doesn't know what happened, or exactly how he did it. All he could think about was keeping Voldemort from hurting the rest of us. I don't think any one else truly knows that.

"I suppose, that the fear of Voldemort had grown so great, that the even bigger fear was that something more powerful, and more unpredictable would take Voldemort's place. This is what I am speaking about now. For the passed several days, Harry has been shunned by almost all of the students here at Hogwarts, for the irrational fear of the power he displayed. They've all apparently forgotten who Harry is. They've all forgotten the fact that they've known Harry for years. They've all forgotten that Harry is the kindest and most sincere person that anyone could ever meet. They've all forgotten that Harry _risked his life_ to stop Voldemort. He nearly died in that battle. He was in the hospital wing for 24 hours, in a coma. Did anyone care? No. Why? Because they were afraid of the power he displayed. When he woke up, he found himself being shunned for saving everyone's life.

"This is an element of human nature that I personally detest. I don't remember where I heard this, but someone once said that 'humans fear what they don't understand, and they hate what they fear, and they try to destroy what they hate.' I know full well that no one is going to try to destroy Harry for the simple fact that they know they can't. But I do know that being treated like this must tear Harry apart, and I want to see this treatment come to an end. It is time to change. We have to overcome this fear—this human weakness. We have to open our eyes. Harry is no threat to any of us.

"The specific event that caused me to change my speech without permission happened last night. I over heard other students refer to Harry as _You-Know-Who_. Referring to him in the same manner that we refereed to Voldemort for so many years. Referring to him as if he was dangerous to them. They've all been blinded by fear, and can no longer see Harry as the same person he was not even a week ago. I cannot stand the thought that Harry might be condemned for the rest of his life for a selfless act. It is time to change. We can't let fear blind us to the truth. I hope and pray that what I've said here today makes you realize your mistakes, or helps you to avoid them in the future. Thank you." 

Harry's hands were cold, in fact he felt numb all over, and he was sure that all of the blood that had first rushed to his face had left, taking all of the other blood with it. He felt horribly pale, and could almost feel himself shaking. He was looking down, afraid to see how many people were watching him now. As Hermione ended her speech and sat back down the deadly silence that he had so dreaded had come over the crowd. He didn't even want to know.

It was at least five minutes—five minutes of dead silence. 

He couldn't take it. He glanced to his side, out the corner of his eye. 

Everyone in his sight had their head down. Everyone sat perfectly still. But this time it wasn't out of fear. He noticed that the girl directly next to him had her eyes shut tight, her brows strained, her lips pressed together in a look that was unmistakably guilt. On the other side of him everyone looked very similar.

He hesitantly glanced up at all the people in the audience. Those he could see looked very similar, more lost in their own thoughts than guilty. The faculty—yes the faculty—they had never doubted him for an instant—accept maybe Snape. Each of them had their heads held high, apparently very pleased with Hermione's speech, and for his recognition. If any of them noticed that he was looking at them, they gave him a brief, but reassuring nod.

Harry put his head back down, the feeling finally coming back to his limbs.

Dumbledore returned to the podium, the twinkle thundering in his eyes, "Thank you, Miss Granger. I am very glad that you were able to break one rule before you graduated." Harry saw Hermione flush. "After that heart-felt speech, it is time to continue on to what you've all come for: the presentation of the class." Dumbledore moved his hand to signal the first row to rise, and then he began calling out the names, and each person's accomplishments, "Hannah Marie Abbott; Honors in Charms on the O.W.L.s." Professor McGonagall was handing out the diplomas to each student, and Professor Snape was presenting the honors medals. "Susan Nicole Bones; Honors Graduate; Honors in Potions and Charms on the O.W.L.s. Terry Lynn Boot; Honors Diploma; Honors Graduate; Honors in Arithmacy, Charms, and Potions on the O.W.L.s. Amanda Jean Brocklehurst…"

When Dumbledore came to Hermione Harry distinctly thought the professor was turning blue in the face because he tried to read her off in one breath, "Hermione Ann Granger; Valedictorian; Head Girl; Honors Diploma; Honors Graduate; perfect scores in Arithmacy, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts on the O.W.L.s." Dumbledore took a very deep breath after he finished, and then stepped out from behind the podium as Hermione came to stand in front of him. He first placed a gold medal with a blue ribbon around her neck for being valedictorian. He then took a folded cloth, also blue, from behind the podium and unfolded it. It was like a scarf, long enough to reach the floor on both sides of Dumbledore's hands. It also carried a gold medal in its center. This was for being Head Girl. Dumbledore draped it across her neck so that both ends of it cascaded down her back. He took her hand and then gave her a big hug. Hermione wiped at her eyes as she went on to Professor McGonagall. She took her diploma and shook the professor's hand, exchanging a few words before she went on to get her Honors medal from Snape.

Dumbledore continued on with the names after he returned to the podium, "Melissa Diane Greer; Honors Graduate. Adam Paul Hale; Honors in Potions and Transfiguration on the O.W.L.s…"

Finally Harry's row stood up and got in place to walk on stage, "Joseph Adam Kirk; Honors diploma; Honors Graduate. Jeremy Royce Kousama; Honors Graduate." 

Dumbledore soon reached the "L's," then the "M's," the "N's," the "O's" and finally the "P's"

"Pansy Louise Parkinson; Honors Graduate; Honors in Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration on the O.W.L.s. Padma Anne Patil; Honors in Arithmacy, Charms, and History of Magic on the O.W.L.s. Parvati Lynn Patil; Honors in Arithmacy, Charms, and History of Magic on the O.W.L.s…" There were only five more people in front of him. "Sally-Anne Perks; Honors in Charms on the O.W.L.s. Rosemary Sue Pfaff; Honors Diploma; Honors Graduate. Floetta Jean Porter. Henry Jay Post; Honors in History of Magic on the O.W.L.s. Joseph Evan Potoczki; Honors Diploma; Honors Graduate; Honors in Charms, and History of Magic on the O.W.L.s."

Harry was next. He felt his stomach turning over and over again inside of him. The silence would come again. So far each student's little section had been cheering and clapping for them, despite the fact that Dumbledore had requested that they hold their applause until the end.

Here it came…

The Potoczki section had just finished clapping.

"Harold James Potter."

It was exactly how he'd feared. Pin-drop silence.

Harry walked up the podium, the hair standing up on the back of his neck as Dumbledore read his honors in the echoing room, "Salutatorian; Head Boy; Honors Diploma; Honors Graduate; perfect scores in Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Arithmacy, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Honors in History of Magic on the O.W.L.s; Victor over Lord Voldemort."

Harry's eyes got huge as he looked at Dumbledore in a manner screaming, _It's already bad enough! Don't remind them!!_ In any case, Dumbledore just smiled back, his eyes twinkling like mad. He stepped out from behind the podium and placed a silver medal on a red ribbon around his neck for being Salutatorian, followed by the same scarf-like thing that Hermione had received. He placed the dark blue fabric across Harry's neck, the gold medal lying just below his collar bones. He took Dumbledore's hand, and was about to say, "It's never going to change," when all of a sudden he heard a small group of people clapping. He saw out of the corner of his eye that it was the Weasleys. He looked back at Dumbledore, who placed his other hand on top of Harry's and gave it a firm squeeze as if to say, "Yes it will." 

Then Harry's eyes got huge again, and his mouth fell.

He could hear the intensity of the applause growing.

It became louder and louder until it seemed like the entire audience was clapping.

Harry could have sworn that he saw tears in Dumbledore's eyes, as he gave a brief nod. Harry went onto Professor McGonagall, taking her had firmly in his own as she handed him his diploma. She too had tears in her eyes, "Your parents would have been proud." She smiled, the look very strange on her face. 

Harry then moved to receive his Honors medal from Snape, and he winced knowing he was going to have to bow to him. _He'll probably decapitate me…_ Snape had the usual look on his face: the one that looked like he had just ate an entire lemon. Harry stood in front of him and bent his head. Snape slid the honors medal over his head and took his hand—which Harry was sure Snape hated—which was customary. Harry gave a brief shake and started off the platform, but Snape didn't let go of Harry's hand. Harry gawked around with one eyebrow quirked and nearly gasped as Snape's expression changed from zero Kelvin to barely freezing. 

"You've managed to win my respect, Potter," he whispered, a half-smile coming to his lips—the look was so alien on Snape's face that Harry nearly toppled over—but then it disappeared and Snape returned to his absolute zero stature, "now all you have to do is keep it." 

He let go of Harry's hand.

Harry, who was completely stunned by Snape's—humanness—nearly fell down the stairs of the platform. 

As he started in the arc around the floor of the Great Hall he was finally able to see the audience. They were all clapping for him. They were all standing for him. Many of those he saw were crying. 

He saw very briefly, in the very back of the hall, hidden almost entirely by a tapestry, his godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius Black—not the black dog, Snuffles. Harry only saw him for an instant before he was gone, the tapestry swaying slightly as his form disappeared. _Must have transfigured_, Harry thought. 

As he made his way back to his seat many people reached out to shake his hand, which he was obliged to do.

He was human again.

He was accepted again—at least by those who were present. 

He even saw that the student body was standing as well.

He could feel a distinct sting in his eyes, and he had to will himself not to cry.

Harry saw Hermione beaming at him. She was at the very end of the first row of students. He made up his mind what to do as he reached her. She watched him as he started up the first row of their seats, but stopped and pulled her into a tight hug. He kissed her very briefly, yet very tenderly and then whispered, "Thank you." As he pulled away he noticed that there was a tear running down her cheek, but he knew full well it wasn't hers. She wiped it away and kissed it as he continued to his seat.

Under normal circumstances he would have been mortified with that amount of attention—but it was much better than the alternative.

__

Dumbledore was right, he thought as the Headmaster continued calling names, _it will get better_. He looked down at Hermione, and then back at Ron, whose line had just rose to go down. He then looked out to the Weasleys in the audience, and up to Professor Lupin. He glanced at the tapestry where Sirius had been standing, and, at the angle he was in now, could see the large dog sitting there at the bottom. Harry smiled to himself, things would get better, and if they didn't after tonight, it didn't matter. The people he cared about knew the truth. The people he cared about would never abandon him.

When Ron was called, both Harry and Hermione—despite McGonagall's death threats—stood up and cheered for him. Ron went very purple as he received his diploma and medal. Finally the last student, Blaze Ann Zabini was called up. After Zabini had taken her seat Dumbledore spoke again, "I would now ask that the class stand, and that our Head Boy and Girl come down to lead the changing of the robes." Harry and Hermione made their way down to the front of the class as Dumbledore continued speaking, "The changing of the robes has always been symbolic. The change from black to white obviously symbolizes the many changes that will take place in these young people's lives, whether they go on to further their education, to become involved in the working society, or perhaps to start a family. We choose the color white, because it represents a clean slate: an empty canvass: a new start. Now that these students have finished their education, they can go on to new and better things." Dumbledore finished speaking and nodded his head towards Harry and Hermione.

They smiled briefly at each other. Harry took her left hand, as she raised her right, which held her wand. Harry raised his left hand, since he no longer had a wand, and no longer needed one. He knew it would be quite strange for everyone, him doing magic without a wand, but what was he supposed to do?

They said it together, "_Albus-candefacerius!_"

A glittering mist spread from Hermione's wand and Harry's hand. It first covered them, and then spread to each member of the class. The black in their school robes changed in a great wave, each becoming snow-white. Harry and Hermione then turned around to face the audience.

"I now present the graduated class of 1997!" Dumbledore beamed.

The audience's applause rose to the ceiling.

Harry smiled to himself again.

__

A new start. A new beginning. Yes. That is exactly what this is.

Disclaimers:

  1. "I'm still the same guy." Line from Disney's The Lion King, said by Simba. © Disney animation.
  2. "Humans fear what they don't understand and they hate what they fear." Line from Disney's Gargoyles, said presumably by either Goliath, Demona, or Hudson. © Disney animation.


	9. Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish

THE FALL OF THE DARK LORD __

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters, I own the story, the majority of the spells and a certain mystic sign of power.

Author's Notes: Hey, I'm getting better at this writing fast crap aren't I? In any case, one more to go after this one! It's almost out of my head FOREVER. Now I can start writing the OTHER one that has been plaguing me for months *sigh* actually, that probably doesn't bother you guys in the least, does it? Anyway, don't forget to review (I literally live off of reviews!). Again (I'm quite sure you're getting sick of hearing this) forgive my references to other crap (I know I have like an entire scene strait out of Disney's The Sword in the Stone_ in this chapter). 10,000 "Whose Line is it Anyway" points to whoever finds them all. Seriously, are there going to be no takers on this? I have 90,000 "Whose Line…" points lying around over here that no one's tried to win! Oh well, your loss. X's & O's. Talia (06/14/01)._

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THE FALL OF THE DARK LORD

Chapter 9: Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish

Mr. Dursley was sitting in the living room reading his paper. He grunted at the stock quotes as he then went to skim the sports page. He tried to forget the fact that his good-for-nothing nephew had been home for a week. It was actually rather easy to do, since the boy remained in his room without coming out most of the time. He was very glad that in little over a month the boy would turn 18, a legal adult, and Dursley would finally be able to legally kick him out of the house.

Numerous tremors suddenly ran though the house, but Dursley barely lifted an eyebrow. His son, Dudley, was just coming down the stairs. Dudley was around five and a half feet tall, and was nearing on 450 pounds; therefore, his footsteps shaking the house was not a very new thing. Dursley turned another page in the paper.

"Dad!" Dudley whispered, his multiple chins quavering from the movement, "Dad, he's…_doing_…something up there…"

"What!?!" Dursley roared, throwing his paper down and leaping up from his armchair.

Mrs. Dursley, who had been washing dishes in the kitchen, came into the room drying a glass casserole dish with an insanely puffy white towel, "What's wrong Snookems?"

"That boy is up there—doing _you know what!_"

Mrs. Dursley gasped, dropping the dish, which smashed on her perfectly kept floor.

Dursley immediately stomped upstairs to stop his nephew from what he was doing—_magic_.

Harry had shut himself in his upstairs room at Number 4 Private Drive ever since he had returned, and for those seven days he had been preparing ingredients he had taken with him from Hogwarts. The room was in somewhat of a shamble. Aunt Petunia would have a heart attack if she was to see it, however, since he actively chose to avoid the Dursleys, the Dursleys had avoided him. 

He was currently standing before his dresser brewing the many ingredients he had simmered, chopped, sliced, and soaked in the last seven days. He had put an enchantment on the dresser so that he could burn a controlled smokeless fire on it, without marring it.

He heard Dudley stumble out of his own room and down the hall, but he stopped in front of Harry's door. Harry glanced away from the concoction long enough to see Dudley's fat face peeking through a crack in the door. Harry looked back at the cauldron to stir. 

Dudley didn't know what hit him.

Harry's hand flew out and suddenly the door slammed, smacking him right between the eyes. A small smile curled on Harry's lips as he heard Dudley stumble backwards.

The potion part of the spell was finished. Harry looked at it, placing his right hand over the steam rising from the inside of the pot. He reached into his pocket and drew out a very long lock of black hair.

"_Friend of the father—_" Harry stretched the lock out across the cauldron, "_I cast this protection upon you._" Harry let the hair fall into the boiling liquid, a blue mist coming from the concoction. Harry reached for a pair of shears that was sitting on this dresser, and then cut off a lock of his own hair. "_I will keep your secret all of my days_," Harry let his hair fall into the liquid as well, "_And no harm shall come to you._" As he said this, the blue mist became red. 

Harry heard Dudley clamor down the stairs.

He stretched his hands out over the cauldron, "_Fidelitatis semper passim et reliquum tempus._" The red mist escaping from the pot suddenly disappeared in a shower of sparks. 

The Fidelius Charm.

Sirius was going to stay with the Weasleys, who knew that he was innocent. Harry refused to allow him to continue living in the wilderness.

He had finished the first spell he had been working on. He waved his hand over the entire workings, "_Explerius_." The cauldron raised itself up and poured its contents into a waiting flask. Harry moved to the other side of the room, where a second potion was brewing. This second cauldron—also taken from Hogwarts—was brewing a potion that was part of a locating spell.

He then heard Uncle Vernon thundering up the stairs screaming at him. His door burst open with Vernon purple-faced and looking as if his head was about to pop off. He strode forward, fully ready to strike Harry.

"BOY, WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE—"

Harry's hand flew out.

"Stop," he said calmly.

Suddenly Vernon found himself frozen in mid-stride, his arms and legs thrown out at very ridiculous angles. "Boy," he growled, "You had better undo this NOW or I am going to box your ears!"

Harry ignored him, noticing briefly Petunia's petrified look as she shielded—very unsuccessfully—her massive son.

Harry continued the spell, leaving Vernon with his arms and legs swung out like a marching Nazi. He pulled a clear orb out of his pants pocket. He levitated it above the potion, and then slowly submerged it.

"POTTER, YOU STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!!"

Harry glared at Vernon, "Shut up." 

Vernon, horror stricken, suddenly realized that his mouth was cemented shut.

Harry looked back at the cauldron containing the orb. He stretched his hands over it like he had done with the first one.

"_Decere ignis in specula colligium et hilaris fieri_."

The potion in the cauldron started into a rapid boil, the liquid glowing a very bright white. Suddenly the orb shot out of the cauldron and hovered in the air. As it left the pot, the light from the potion snaked into the orb so that it floated inside of it like misty clouds. After several seconds that light also diminished until the orb was as dark as ebony. Harry took the orb from the air and stood up.

He turned to the Dursleys.

He pointed his hand to a suitcase that was lying on his bed. It sprang open.

"_Dimettere-contrahere-frequentere._"

Everything in the room that belonged to Harry lifted off the floor or came flying from the dresser and closet. As they circled in the air each item began to shrink and then made a place for itself in the suitcase. Hedwig's cage opened so that she could get out before it too began to shrink. Even the cauldrons that he had been using, and the potions, which were both now in flasks, shrank and made a place for themselves. 

"I'm leaving," Harry said to the Dursleys as they watched horror-stricken at the flying possessions. "Aunt Petunia, if you would please move so that my trunk could get through?"

She turned her head to see a miniature of Harry's school trunk floating beside her head. She let out a shrill scream and jumped back as it whizzed into the room and then into the suitcase.

Harry noticed that Vernon desperately wanted to say something, so he waved his hand, giving Vernon his mouth back.

"_YOU ARE MOST CERTAINLY NOT LEAVING! I FORBID—_"

Harry closed Vernon's mouth again.

"I am going on a manhunt for Peter Pettigrew, the man who betrayed my parents and framed my godfather. I will be 18 in 36 days. I'll no longer be your responsibility. As I am leaving today, you will most likely never see me again. I assure you that I am not going to die on this venture, not that you care. I have just recently become the most powerful wizard on the face of the planet. There is no other person as revered, or as feared as I am now. I can easily provide for myself.

"I will be leaving here forever, and I want all of you to know that you have been the absolute worst family a person could ever ask for. You've provided food, clothes, and shelter—and an absolute minimum at that—but no love whatsoever. In fact, I'm quite sure that if I hadn't gone to Hogwarts I never would have experienced the emotion. Did you even know that I was second in the class? The Head Boy? Of course not. You didn't come to my graduation, even though the time was open, considering that Dudley was too stupid to pass enough classes to graduate.

"I'll leave you, and you'll never have to trouble with me again, and likewise I never want to be troubled with you either. If you ever run into trouble with any wizards or witches, I do not want you saying that you are related to '_The Harry Potter_' in order to get out of it. In fact, I don't even want my name mentioned in these walls ever again. Forget that I ever existed here, and if you must speak of me, refer to me only as You-Know-Who. I want no ties with any of you. I am starting over."

Harry unfroze Vernon, also returning his mouth to normal. 

Vernon, finally learning from his first two mistakes, put both feet on the ground and backed slowly away.

Harry reached his hand out and the suitcase with all of his shrunken belongings piled neatly in it slammed shut and floated over and into his hand. "Hedwig," he called, and the owl came to rest on his shoulder. He looked at the Dursleys with very cold eyes. 

"Good riddance," he snarled, and disapparated on the spot, leaving the Dursleys standing in a completely empty room, save for the bed, the dresser and the rug, that left no sign that there had been a wizard living in it for seven years.

Harry opened his eyes wondering where he had ended up. It was somewhere in the countryside.

Harry gave a long sigh, "It feels good to be free, doesn't it Hedwig?"

The owl gave a small hoot.

"Should we start the search here?"

She fluttered her wings slightly.

"Right," Harry closed his eyes and laid the black orb, which was still clutched in his fist, against his chest, "Peter Pettigrew." He opened his eyes, holding out the orb. The black color lightened to a dark gray. "Well, we're closer than we were, Hedwig. When it turns white we'll be right on top of him."

Hedwig gave another short hoot.

"What direction do you want to go in first?"

Hedwig gave a crackle of indecision before leaping off of Harry's shoulder flying strait ahead.

"Forward," Harry said, "forward is always a good direction."

__

Disclaimers: 

1) The packing scene in this chapter is supposed to represent Merlin's packing scene in Disney's The Sword in the Stone. © Disney animation and T.H. White.


	10. Epilogue

FALL OF THE DARK LORD __

Disclaimer: As always, I own no characters in this story. I lay claims to the majority of spells, and a certain mystic sign of power.

Author's Notes: At long last I have finally finished this thing! Enjoy the Epilogue! And as always, for give my references to other stuff. 10,000 "Whose Line is it Anyway" points to whoever finds them all. (Seriously, this makes 100,000 points just sitting around here collecting dust! Won't someone just try? I think later I'm going to go through and pick them all out myself and make a list of them. If you're curious, keep a look out.)I don't know when, but I plan on writing another fic entitled "Sins of the Father." If you're interested in that one too, keep a look out. Later. (hugs and kisses) Talia (06/16/01).

****

FALL OF THE DARK LORD

Epilogue

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, sat in his living room before his wide fireplace as a huge storm raged outside. He was dressed in red striped pajamas, fuzzy slippers and a neat little fez that rested on top of his rumpled gray hair. He glanced up at the portrait of Merlin that he had hanging above his fireplace as he lit his pipe. However Merlin was not there. He had hung a sign on his chemistry table that stated, "Gone to Bermuda." 

Fudge puffed on his pipe and then reached for the day's issue of _The Daily Prophet_. He unfolded the paper and scanned the articles. The very first one, on the very front page is what caught his eye first.

****

Harry Potter Still Missing

It has been nearly a month since the Fall of the Dark Lord was felt at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Since that time _The Daily Prophet_, as well as many other well-known and respected papers has been trying to set up interviews with the world's savior, Harry Potter, who of course is the same person who defeated Lord Voldemort the first time nearly 17 years ago.

It was reported three weeks ago that Harry Potter disappeared from him muggle home at Number 4 Private Drive in Little Whinging Surrey. 

Fudge did wonder what had happened to Harry. He had missed several meetings that had been set up with the Ministry in order to straiten out many confusions, especially with his animagus registry. Harry must have been confused when he was making out his forms, because he marked down almost every animal on the list, and being able to transfigure into—well—anything you wanted—was just impossible. He continued the article.

Since then, Harry has still not been found although many people have had sightings of him across England.

"I was tossing gnomes when I heard a scuffle come from my barn out back," one witness said, "and when I went to check it out, there he was, in a black cloak, holding some bright glowing thing. He was telling a white barn owl to flush all the rodents out of my barn. Why they were doing that I'll never know, but when he heard me he looked up—and that's when I saw the scar—and then disapparated, the owl flying away too."

Sources have said that on that faithful night those many weeks ago, Harry proved to be animagus, turning into a large black griffin to face Voldemort. Harry supposedly has other forms, always black with his lightning bolt scar always on his brow. Likewise, there have been many sightings of a black cat.

"I don't know how it got down there," an Edinburgh resident said, "but I heard a great commotion in my basement, and when I opened the door a great black cat bounded out carrying a fat squirming rat in its mouth! I didn't get a good look at the cat, because it then escaped out of my kitchen window, but what I did see was a white slash on its forehand, right above the eyes."

Fudge chuckled to himself and turned the page, now convinced that the article was a bunch of bologna. "What would _Harry Potter_ want with a rat?" He shook his head and puffed on his pipe.

"A lot actually."

"Ahhhhh!" Fudge cried as a voice came out of nowhere. He leapt out of his chair and turned around to see Harry Potter standing right behind him, a white barn owl resting on his shoulder, his clothes in tatters and covered with mud.

"What are you—how did you—why are you—"

"Well, not just any rat, but a specific one you see," Harry continued, ignoring Fudge's confusion and shock. He walked into the room and stood in front of the fire. "I hope you don't mind, it is very wet and cold out there," Harry continued, ringing out a part of his cloak in front of the fire, paying no mind to the fact that Fudge was having a panic attack. "Why don't you come sit back down so that we can talk, Minister Fudge." Harry motioned Fudge to sit down in his armchair again. Fudge stumbled over and plopped back down in the seat. Harry noted the fuzzy slippers, "That's—uh—a very interesting outfit sir…"

"How did you get in here!?!" Fudge was finally able to spit out.

"Oh, I let myself in."

"But I didn't here you…"

"I apparated."

"Do you have a license for that?"

"Not yet."

"You do know that's illegal, don't you?"

"Yeah. I'm not very worried."

Fudge rubbed his temples, "OK, _why_ are you here?"

"I've come to ask—actually to demand—a favor."

"And what would that be?" Fudge asked, regaining his superior tone, sitting back in his chair.

"I want Sirius Black pardoned."

"_Sirius Black!?!_ Are you insane? The man's a convicted killer! Thirteen people with one curse! You're crazy! Why would you ask me to pardon a—a _madman_ like that—who, may I remind you—is still an escaped criminal—who has been sentenced to the Dementor's kiss?"

"Because he is innocent."

"You're mad!"

"I have the proof."

"And what proof is that!?!" Fudge snapped.

A small smile curled on Harry's lips, "Sirius Black is wanted for the murder of twelve muggles, but more importantly, one wizard, correct?"

"Yes."

"A wizard named Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes."

The smile on Harry's face vanished as he reached into the pocket of his cloak, and soon held out a very fat rat, its tail twisted around Harry's middle finger so that it was squirming about helplessly in midair. 

Fudge howled at the sight of the rat, "Ack! Get that disgusting thing out of here! How dare you bring such vermin in my house!"

Harry ignored Fudge's exclamation. The barn owl gave and excited hoot at the sight of the rat. "For the last time, Hedwig," Harry said, "You can't eat him." The owl gave an indignant crackle and flew up to perch in front of the Merlin, which was still empty. 

"This," Harry said to Fudge, "is Peter Pettigrew."

"_What!?!_"

"It's true. In fact, I distinctly remember trying to tell you this five years ago, remember? When Black first escaped and was captured at Hogwarts?"

Fudge's eyes became the size of saucers.

"You do remember. You see, here's what _really_ happened. Peter here," Harry bounced the rat painfully by its tail several times, "was the man who sold my parents to Voldemort, in fact, he lead Voldemort right to our door, didn't you?" he asked the rat, who only continued to squirm about. 

"After Voldemort was thrown from his body, and seemingly defeated, Peter here thought, 'Oh my gosh, Sirius is still alive, he knows I betrayed everyone, and _now_ that my master is dead, I don't have anyone to protect me!' And he also figures that all the other Death Eaters know that he was the one who sent Voldemort to the Potters, therefore, they will all think that he's a traitor as well. So you see, he was screwed on both sides, weren't you?" Harry gave the rat another painful shake. 

"So here's what Peter figures out. He'll set up Sirius Black—who would no doubt track him down and turn him in, if not worse—so that it appears that he murdered Peter, thereby sending him to Azkaban. With Black out of the way, and himself dead, no one could come after him. Brilliant, no? That is if you don't mind spending your life as a rat. 

"He got cornered by Black in the middle of a street, screamed out that Black had betrayed the Potters, cut off his own finger, and cast a curse with his wand behind his back, killing everyone within twenty feet. While he was smoke-screened he transformed into a rat and escaped down the sewer, leaving his finger behind as if it was the only thing left of him. You see, Peter Pettigrew was an unregistered animagus."

Fudge sat in his chair dumb struck.

"Still don't believe me?" Harry stepped closer, extending the rat even further, "Look at his front paw. The right one."

Fudge leaned forward, "It's silver…why is it…"

"Voldemort gave him a new hand, because Pettigrew cut it off as part of the spell to resurrect him. Believe me. I was there, remember?"

Fudge pondered for a second, shaking his head, "Doesn't prove a thing!" He sat back quickly again, convinced beyond reason, but too stubborn to admit that he was wrong.

"Doesn't prove a thing?" Harry's eyes narrowed and he dropped the rat. It bounced on the floor with a squeak. Harry stepped on its tail so that it couldn't get away. 

"Ack!" Fudge squealed again, pulling his feet—fuzzy slippers and all—onto the chair, "Don't let that thing loose in my house!"

Hedwig gave another excited hoot. 

"No, Hedwig, you still can't eat him," Harry said sternly.

She answered again with a disgruntled hoot.

Harry held his hand out over the rat. A bright blue-white light shot out of his palm and hit it. He took his foot away as the rat twisted about. There was another flash and the rat stretched back into Peter Pettigrew. He sat on the floor wringing his hands, tears leaking out of his watery eyes.

It looked as though Fudge's eyes were going to fall out of his skull. He pointed his shaking hand at the pathetic man sitting on the floor in front of him, "_That's Peter Pettigrew!!!_"

"Yes, I know. I distinctly remember telling you that."

"_But—but—but—but—he's DEAD!!!!_"

"Nope," Harry said, "He's just as alive as you or me." Harry reached down and pinched Pettigrew's cheek very hard, causing the man to cry out in pain. "See?"

Fudge drew his legs up and hugged them, his nose poking between his knees and his eyes large enough to resemble a bullfrog. He stared at Pettigrew as if he was staring at a zombie.

Harry crossed his arms and spoke over Pettigrew's whimpering, "I want Sirius to have a full pardon. I want you to give a public apology for imprisoning him, and I want him compensated for being in Azkaban for twelve years. Get your guards here _now_. You don't want this vermin in your house? Well _I_ don't want him roaming about free any longer—rat or otherwise—and I _especially_ do not want to carry him in my pocket anymore!"

Fudge continued sitting there, staring aghast at the would-be dead man.

"Go!" Harry shouted.

Fudge—who was already jumpy—shot out of his seat, losing one of his fuzzy slippers as he apparated to the Ministry of Magic to retrieve the guards to bring Pettigrew in. Harry walked around to the armchair and sat down facing Pettigrew. He sat back in the chair folding his hands and stared the little man in the teary eyes with an unreadable countenance.

Pettigrew got up on his knees in front of Harry, "_Please_," he pleaded, "_Please—_Harry—don't_—don't do this…What would your father think?_"

"My father?" Harry said, his eyes narrowing, "If I'm not mistaken, my father said that he was going to track you down and kill you for betraying them if he survived Voldemort. Do you remember that?"

Pettigrew gave a horrible sob and fell backwards again, "_Why—why didn't you—just kill me—then_…"

"Well, for starters, as I told your master, 'I'm not about to become a murderer for the likes of you.' Second—although I don't think you deserve to live—death is too nice a punishment for you. You deserve to suffer in Azkaban the way Sirius did. You need to pay for the twelve people you killed, and for what you did to my parents."

Pettigrew had his face covered with his hands, his pointed nose sticking out from between his fingers.

Harry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "You're a coward. You sold them to the enemy and didn't even have the decency to stay and watch." Harry made a motion with one hand, "Come here."

Pettigrew looked up, and with a trembling lip crawled closer to Harry.

Harry lowered his voice, "You don't even know what he did to them, do you?"

Pettigrew shook his head slightly.

Harry's hands shot out and caught Pettigrew on either side of the head. He started hollering bloody murder in fear, and suddenly he had images of Voldemort's attack on the Potters almost 17 years earlier flashing through his mind. They started with the short duel between his master and James, when James' wand was shattered and he was left defenseless—and continued in flashes of memory up to when Voldemort pried Harry from Lily's stiff arms. Upon reaching that point Harry let go of Pettigrew, who fell onto his back horror-stricken, the tears now not only leaking, but pouring from his eyes.

"Some friend you were—weren't you?" Harry snarled, sitting back again. He removed his glasses to wipe away his own standing tears. It didn't matter that he'd seen the images over a million times, they still affected him. He doubted that he'd ever become desensitized to them. Harry put his glasses back on and looked away from Pettigrew, his disgust almost too much for him to bear.

It took about another ten minutes before Fudge returned—still in his pajamas and missing one fuzzy slipper—with three large burly wizards from Azkaban. They shackled Pettigrew and disapparated with him in tow.

"So where are they taking him?" Harry asked the still shaken Fudge, getting up to stand in front of him.

"To a holding cell in Azkaban, until the trial."

"Which will be?"

"Three months."

"No. Not soon enough. Move it up."

"I'll see what I can do. How soon would be accept—"

"Next week."

"Now—now see here Harry—I can't just—move trials like that—"

"Sure you can. You're the Minister of Magic, and you've imprisoned an innocent man for 12 years—not to mention—also nearly had his soul eaten by a Dementor. Now," Harry paused, "it might just be me, but I would think you would want to clear this little—_misunderstanding—_up as soon as you possibly could—_especially_—since the would-be guilty party is still on the run and wanted dead or alive. Now, should something happen to Sirius Black—who is and innocent man, may I remind you—in the time it takes to prove Peter Pettigrew guilty, what will that make you look like?"

Fudge tried to say something, but his voice was lost. His jaw moved, but no sound came out.

"I think you see my point," Harry said. He put his hands on Fudge's shoulders and looked into the old man's eyes, "Please Minister Fudge. I want my godfather pardoned as soon as possible. I want him proven innocent. I want the whole world to know that they've made a horrible mistake. I don't want his name breathed in fearful whispers anymore. I don't want him to be the monster spoken of in children's horror stories anymore. And I want him compensated."

"Like what?" Fudge mumbled.

"Some land—a house—maybe a job since no one will trust him enough to hire him."

"I'll see what I can do. We certainly want him compensated—Lord yes. The land—all depends on where he wants it—"

"Near Ottery St. Catchpole."

"That could probably work…" he mumbled. "You—or he after it's safe for him to come out—will have a lot of paperwork to fill out…"

"Whatever it takes."

"Speaking of paperwork—you missed your appointments with the Ministry—you need to reschedule them."

"Of course."

"And I have to fine you for apparating without a license…"

"I understand." Harry turned towards Fudge's door, "I'll talk to you soon Minister Fudge."

Fudge stood in his spot for several seconds absorbing all the events of the night. "Harry, where are you going?"

Harry opened the door, calling Hedwig, who flew over to perch on his shoulder again, "It's stopped raining, I'm going home. Good evening to you Minister." Harry nodded his head and walked out the door. 

Fudge paused for a few more seconds before going to the door and calling down the street, "Harry, what do you plan on doing now?"

Harry turned back, "There's an opening at Hogwarts. It seems that last year's Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher was so traumatized by the attack that she resigned." Harry gave a mischievous smile and waved to Fudge before disappearing down an alleyway. 

He scratched Hedwig on the back of the neck, "New start, Hedwig. New family. New life. It's going to be great." He laughed to himself as he walked down the ally, "I can't wait to see the look on Snape's face when I get his job." His voice faded as he continued into the darkness, "So, Hedwig, where should we go first? To see Hermione, or back home to the Weasleys?"

The owl answered with a short hoot.

"Right," Harry laughed, his voice barely audible from the back of the ally, and his form nearly invisible in the dark to any onlooker as his form vanished completely.

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Disclaimers: ah, this is the last one I have to do for this story.

  1. "Gone to Bermuda," is not really a reference, it's a pun or an allusion, or something or other to both T.H. White's book, The Sword in the Stone, and Disney's version of his book, when Merlin shouts "Blow me to Bermuda!" © T.H. White and Disney animation.
  2. "Harry's hands shot out and caught Pettigrew on either side of the head. He started hollering bloody murder in fear, and suddenly he had images of Voldemort's attack on the Potters almost 17 years earlier…" the basic scene idea came from The Crow, when Eric attacks the bad guy and forwards his wife's agony as she was dying to him. I'm sure similar things have happened in other places, but I can't put my finger on any. © someone other than me.


	11. Final Authors Notes

OK, I hate to break it to everyone, but this story is most likely not going to have a sequel—or at least a _good_ sequel. Think about it: the principle bad-ass is sorta dead, and the principle hero is quite literally untouchable. I'm not very good with coming up with alternative stories, I hate to say, so I can't easily pull a _Dragon Ball Z_ and have new villains, all more terrible than their predecessor, suddenly appear our of the blue. What I may be able to do—assuming inspiration comes up and bites me again like it did that fateful April night last year when I couldn't sleep and kept thinking about chapter one of this story (you know, that's all the longer it was supposed to be, just "The Sign of Primus"). One day I might take suggestions and write about Sirius' pardon, or maybe the hunt for Wormtail, but in order to do these things I need some kind of plan and at least two scenes to build on (for this story it was the wand shattering in chapter one followed by _Abjicereum_ and Harry turning into the Griffin in chapter 6). So, unfortunately, as I already said, "The Fall of the Dark Lord" probably won't have a _good_ sequel if one is ever written. However, if one ever is produced, I'll stick a note on the end of this story so you all know what to look for. Is that OK? I hope so.

Now, if all of you are just _dying_ to read my stuff, I do have another story called "Sins of the Father." "The Fall of the Dark Lord" was almost—no it _was_ a warm up for this story. I originally wasn't going to write "Sins of the Father" because I knew most people would write it off as a Mary Sue, and so a lot of the ideas went into "The Fall of the Dark Lord." If you want to read this story I'd really appreciate it because it's my true master piece. It is also a view of how Harry survived that fateful night, but the only way to get at this view _requires_ a new character, and Harry has to be interested in the character enough to go digging up stuff that leads him back to his own past. (And yes, the Sign of Primus returns, but it means a _slightly_ different thing in this story.) If you don't believe it is a good story, just go check out my reviews—they should be good enough proof.

Alas, I would like to talk more, but I'm going to be late for class if I don't go NOW!

Later,

Talia (03/04/02)

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Sins of the Father--Secrets. Everyone has them. Some come out, others remain hidden. Some mean nothing, while others are destructive. In Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts he will learn a secret that has the power to change his life forever.


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